


Heir Apparent

by Evil_is_Relative, Wynni



Series: Asylum'Verse [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Altmer - Freeform, Assassination, Children, Daedric Princes, Daedric Princes in scenes with fluff, Dagi-Rhat, Dunmer - Freeform, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Humor, Imperials, Intrigue, Khajiit - Freeform, Kidnapping, Loyalty, Madness, Marriage, Mind Manipulation, Multi, NORDS - Freeform, Ohmes-Rhat, Polyamory, Power Play, Some angst, Stormcloaks, Thalmor, Thieves Guild, Who's empire is it anyway?, YoungOnes, allthethings, bloodlines and Altmer being buttheads about them, can't have fluff without angst in a story this long, established relationships - Freeform, even the kitchen sink, legacy, lydia - Freeform, mixedrace, new relationships, passed mentions of abuse, you know there actually is a kitchen sink at one point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-09 23:56:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 341,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_is_Relative/pseuds/Evil_is_Relative, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynni/pseuds/Wynni
Summary: For decades the Empire has struggled to heal itself, but without an Heir to the Ruby Throne it seems it's only a matter of time until it falls to the Thalmor. In the free province of Skyrim, the two Dragonborn are working to build lives for the prisoners they freed from Alinor. Now Imperial assassins are after them, and they'll have to confront the Elder Council to discover why.





	1. By the Pricking of my Thumbs...

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Look! Another installment in the Asylum'Verse. What is this witchery?
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> So, the Ilustration. Evil designed Rommy, I made him happen as an actual Character in Skyrim. A friend on deivant art Sir-douglas-of-fir took a screencap, and Evil doctored it and made it awesome. 
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**Prologue**

The room was not lavish by their normal standards, but it was dim enough for them to ignore that. Moonlight filtered through the heavy curtains, which could have been any shade from dark red to a more conservative blue, but at the moment looked black and dour. The shadows hung heavy in the corners and below the furniture, giving an air of the mysterious, of the forbidden, to the simple room. So Amaund Motierre told himself, anyway. Smiling thinly, he glanced over the gold-dipped rim of his perfectly clear cut crystal glass at those he had managed to assemble as they settled themselves on the velvet upholstery.

"Amaund! What is the meaning of this…this travesty!" Alexia sniffed, displeased with the setting, company, and latest events. Nothing seemed to please her. She flounced in her chair, fussing with her skirts to settle them just so.

"The real travesty is what is happening to our Empire, Lady Vici" he replied, bowing over the cup of wine he handed her. The woman insisted she'd been run out of Skyrim by heretical Nord barbarians, but he wouldn't be surprised in the least if they had paved a road just for her.

"Truly? I hadn't realized." Alexia's voice was as dry as the Ala'kir. "Somehow the rampaging barbarians and hauty elves escaped my notice."

"Tis truly the End Times!" Dum Faustus intoned in his quavery wail, his wrinkled hands passing over his liver-spotted bald pate. "Alduin's returned and the Empire unravels around us! I told you! I told it would come to this—"

"Oh calm yourself, you old fool! Nothing is ending. If a snippet of a Khajiit can turn Alduin on his tail, there's no reason we can't bring this Empire back into shape, and send those pesky goldenrods running." Salonia's voice snapped Lord Faustus out of his rant, leaving him gape-jawed at her frosty tone. She settled herself like a bird of prey lightly in her chair, back rigid and regarding them all with a stern gaze over her lightly fluttering fan.

"Indeed," Amaund agreed, suppressing a shudder as the woman reminded him strongly of his mother at her angriest. "But to do that, we have to address these…rumors out of Skyrim."

"Which one?" Alexia continued to fuss with her skirts, then regarded Amaund with a sarcastic smirk. "I can assure you Skyrim is a lost cause, overrun with dirty Nords, unruly Khajiit, and sheer lunacy. We're well rid of the place."

"So, which does that leave your daughter? Didn't she stay there, married to a..what was your charming term? Dirty Nord?" Salonia felt no need to hide her claws. The old bat more than deserved the snide dig.

"She'll eventually come round. She simply has to learn for herself the hard way. If she doesn't, she's just another victim of that upstart's insanity," Alexia refused to rise to the bait. Being set in one's ways and certain sure had its advantages.

"I got the letter this morning," Amaund interjected before that could get out of hand.

"Letter? What letter?" Salonia did not care for surprises, and wondered how her informants had missed this letter.

The Breton gave her a slight, false smile, "When these rumors of a Septim Heir first came to us, I cast about for a bit more information," he told her. "As you all did, I'm sure. The trouble is, so did a few of the other Councilors. It seems there actually  _is_  a man in Windhelm angling for the Ruby Throne."

"But how likely is he to really be a Septim? After all this time? I thought the Mythic Dawn took them all down, well, except Martin, but…" Alexia gestured vaguely in the direction of the giant statue still in the heart of the City. One could make the argument the Mythic Dawn did for him, as well.

"Does it truly matter?" Amaund countered, giving her a solemn look. "Mede has yet to declare an Heir after his nephew's accident. The Medes are dying out. Titus is too old to father any children, and his sister is practically on death's door. The people are getting antsy."

"It matters, if they can prove this claim. The people have romanticized the old Empire all out of proportion; entire Empire would rally to a 'True Septim.' If we can prove them false, we can install someone…more suited to our collective needs." Salonia agitatedly fluttered her fan again.

"And that," Amaund said with a hint of a triumphant smile in her direction, "Is why I have brought you, the most astute of the Imperial Court and Council, here tonight. The news I got this morning is promising."

"You managed to set eyes on them, then?" the last member of their party finally spoke up. Amaund turned to take in the towering form of the High Chancellor, calmly making himself some strong tea at the sideboard. A Nord himself, Eirik Hubro never bothered to fit fully in with the other members of the mostly Imperial court, flaunting his warrior's physique as readily as the magical prowess that sent him climbing through the ranks of the Shadow Legion. He glanced up at Amaund mildly, looking almost sleepy, "The children?"

"Children?" Alexia's attention perked up.

"Children?" Salonia's fan was tapping thoughtfully against one palm. "Young, malleable, and impressionable children?" For the first time, Alexia and Salonia's eyes met in complete understanding.

" _The Empire is saved!_  It shall be reborn in the image of these young Septims!" Faustus waved his bony arms in his enthusiasm.

"Uh, of course, something like that," Salonia hid her scheming smile behind her fan.

"Well, certainly in someone's image," Alexia nodded to herself.

"It would undoubtedly save us hassle, if we could substantiate their claim, to raise the pair here," the High Chancellor said, his steps surprisingly light as he strode over to the largest chair in the room and settled himself on it, somehow managing to look completely at home. "The trouble, of course, is with their father."

"Yes, what do we know of this upstart?" Salonia's fan once again beat a thoughtful tattoo against her palm.

Alexia snorted. "He's a Nord! What else do you need to know?"

"Indeed, we Nords have a habit of seizing power by force if needed," Eirik replied lightly, smiling gently. "I do not relish another war with the Stormcloak army, especially with the Thalmor on our Southern and Eastern borders."

"And with a 'Real Septim' to rally behind? Half of our own are bound to help them," Salonia shuddered delicately, "Or join them."

Dum Faustus gasped in his chair, as if seized by a vision. "It mustn't come to that! Our Empire would tear itself to pieces! The End Times made real!"

"Enough of your doom and gloom, Faustus! Everything is not the End Times Come!" Alexia actually turned around to snap at the old man, plainly irritated.

"Lady Carvain has a point, though," the Nord said, nodding to Salonia. "I have my own sources of this man. He claims to be an Amulius. We all know some of the romantic tales that came out about  _that."_  He scoffed quietly, "As if there is anything romantic about a leader seducing the wife of his Champion."

Faustus snorted in outrage. "Martin Septim would never! He was a monk!"

"Which raises interesting questions itself, doesn't it? If not from Martin Septim, then where does the claim originate? Nothing in Amulius' family tree would grant a right to the throne." Salonia was still thoughtfully fluttering her fan. "Either Martin wasn't much of a monk…"

"I will share something with you that another Councilor and I have been discussing," the High Chancellor said after a moment of weighty thought. "It was not well-known, even among the Council of the time, but Martin did unofficially name an Heir."

"Oh did he?" Salonia's fan fluttered furiously and she recrossed her legs. "Who? And why?"

Eirik smiled, blue eyes not warming in the least. "The young son of the Champion. Most believed it to be a gesture of friendship. Too old, by the way, to have been Martin's."

Amaund blinked, hand tightening slightly around his glass. He hadn't known that. "So even without some kind of blood claim, the man is a Septim by adoption?"

"He's been held thirty years by those bloody elves on top of being raised in the wilds of Skyrim, we can't let that…walking disaster take the throne!" Alexia was all but beating her fists on the cushions of her settle.

"You've not been down to the taverns," Eirik replied, still with that slight smile riding his face. "There are plenty of Nord sailors that go in and out of the Skyrim Ports, taking tales and songs with them. This 'Tyrlief Mammoth-Rider' apparently lead them all to a grand victory against their oppressors, rallied dragons and nature itself. All after absorbing a dragon's soul." He put down the empty teacup with a faint click. Amaund couldn't help but feel it punctuated the sentence. "It may be bollocks, it may have a grain of truth to it, but whatever the case, he was in that prison because he was a Legionnaire. What we have, ladies and gentlemen, is a war hero that led his fellow Legionnaires out of imprisonment. The majority of them weren't Nords, either. These are our own men singing his praises."

"We're sunk. If he came for the Throne, hell, the Penitus Oculatus would back him."

"The Pentius Oculatus was created by the Medes," Eirik reminded her. "They won't be so easily swayed. There is the matter of the number of Blades suddenly creeping out of the woodwork, however."

"Ha! Looks like the elves weren't as good at extermination as they thought," Alexia seemed to take some grim satisfaction in that.

"But Tyrlief might be," the High Chancellor pointed out, leaning back. "His friend Ulfric certainly cleaned out the advisors he didn't want. A man left to rot in a Thalmor prison for three decades only to find his homeland's patron god outlawed? He might have some…grudges against those in power."

"Doom falls upon us all!"

" _What_  did I tell you, Faustus?" Alexia threatened Dum where he sat. "Your doom'll come quicker if you keep caterwauling!" Faustus sank back against his chair as Alexia rose from hers like an avenging daedra.

"Lady Vici," the High Chancellor finally rose and placed himself between them, "While your initiative is admirable, Lord Faustus is an old man and would not survive your tender ministrations well."

"That's the whole point." Alexia shot daggerfilled stares around the imposing Nord at the focus of her ire.

"With the end of the Medes impending, he is not the only one concerned with the doom of the Empire as we know it," the Nord soothed.

"Of course…" Amaund fiddled with one of the crystal prisms hanging from the only two lit lamps, "We could avoid doom, an invasion—even another Interregnum—altogether. All it takes is a little…forethought."

"You've either already thought of something, or already implemented something. Which is it?" Salonia was back to fluttering her fan languidly, eyeing Amaund speculatively.

"You've already thought it yourselves," the Breton reminded her. "We need an Heir. One we could gently raise to our way of thinking. It's the Nord—Tyrlief—that is the real problem. Of course, someone like that would have a lot of enemies, even if the Elder Council continues to ignore his claims as fancy. It would be unfortunate if something were to…happen to him before he was able to substantiate his claim to the Throne."

"Keep talking," Salonia smiled sharply, "I'm listening."

"As am I." Alexia settled herself back on her cushions, her fury at Faustus momentarily forgotten. "If we must have a Nord on the throne, might as well be a civilized one."

.

* * *

.

Chapter 1

The mid-spring sun winked off the waters of Lake Ilinalta, sending up little flashes of light to dazzle the eye for a moment before clouds obscured the sun again. Spring in Skyrim was much the same—hints of sun in between long moments of cold air and dim light. Soon, the entire country would erupt into color, but for the moment the buds were furled, the grass dry and brown, the waters dark. It was easy to tell the swarm of blue butterflies was unnatural to the time of year, even if they hadn't spun into a small cyclone on the road before the only dwelling in sight, joining together until they solidified into the form of a man. Wind toyed with shoulder-length strands of hair that quickly changed from bone-white to dark brown, glowing amber eyes dimming as they warmed, gazing at the building as a clamor of childish voices set up a din that cut through the afternoon calm.

"Me next! Me next!" Blaise threw his fishing pole down without a second thought, rushing to the familiar figure newly formed from the sparkling swarm of butterflies.

"No, me next!" Runa appeared as if by magic, though the trail of feed from where the chickens scratched in the dirt proved that particular illusion wrong.

"No fair, I saw him first!" Blaise glared at Runa with a mutinous pout.

"What exactly am I doing with who next?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow at the two children. "I  _thought_ I was going inside to see your mother."

"Butterflies!" came the immediate and emphatic stereo answer.

"Please, Papa? Just once around the lake?" Runa had been practicing her pretty please face. She'd been watching Telki, if the results were anything to go by.

Groaning, Romulus, former Champion of Cyrodiil, current Prince of Madness, and fiance to the Dragonborn (which solidified his position in the mad world, really) took in the results of her practice. "Not the lost kitty face!"

"Pleeease? Pretty please?" Runa added fluttering lashes to her pouty face.

"Uh…" he blinked, glancing at Blaise. He'd never been very good at resisting pleading females of any age, starting with his sisters and then never bothering to correct that behavior. "Compromise?"

"What sort of compromise?" Blaise gave him a hopeful look.

A stern individual appeared beside Rommy, barely batting an eye to be torn so abruptly from whatever it was he had been doing. "Oh, well done, my lord. You have summoned me. Whatever can I do for you?"

"Haskill, can you butterfly the kids around the lake while I find my Queen?"

"I am afraid that ability is solely your purview, my lord," the unflappable steward replied.

"Oh, fine," Rommy sighed, turned Haskill into a giant bird, and added a saddle to him. "Here you go," he ushered the children forward.

"Woah." Blaise looked at him interestingly. "Hey, can you turn me into a bird? Can I be a hawk? Maybe a falcon!"

"Oh, can I be a hummingbird?"

"Absolutely not! I learned my lesson when I turned you all into cheese," he cried, aghast. Haskill scratched at the ground and started trying to peck up the feed Runa had left, but his beak was too big.

"But cheese can't fly. Falcons can, and divebomb!"

" _Please_ Papa? Just this once? We won't tell, promise." Runa widened her eyes as far as they would go, and let her chin wobble.

"No point," Rommy shook his head, glad to have a legitimate argument. "Neither of you would know how to fly."

"Awww." Blaise and Runa looked rather droopy as he put them in the saddle. "Thank you for letting us ride Haskill, though. Hey, could you give us flying lessons, sometime?" Blaise, bless him, couldn't quite let the idea go.

"Er…" wincing, Rommy resorted to the phrase that had driven his first wife up the wall, "Ask your mother." Before they could reply to that one way or the other, Haskill took off, stubby wings too small to properly hold him, so his long legs ate up the ground instead. The Mad God grinned, watching. Rather like an overgrown, long-legged chicken, actually. He might have to make a few more of those. Not of Haskill, though: He needed his steward.

Turning, he made his way around the rocky outcropping the house was built on and up the incline to the door, glancing around. He was not expecting the aerial attack from the second story deck. "Rommy! You're here!"

The ground was not soft on the path, but he laughed anyway. "Warning next time, Telki?"

"I yelled as I jumped? Not enough? Okay. Missed you. Been a long week without you." She nuzzled into his chest. She'd missed his sconey smelling self.

"Yell  _before_ jumping, next time," he advised, giving her a little squeeze. "I almost thought someone was throwing a fish at me again."

"Blaise and Alesan? I thought we broke them of that habit after making them clean all the fish that last time." She shuddered at the memory. They were  _days_  getting all the scales out of their hair and clothes.

"Actually, someone insulted the Duchess. She declared war. It was…very fragrant," he informed her, wrinkling his nose. "Things have been better since I turned all the swordfish into salmon, but it still stunk so badly your flowers couldn't even drown it out."

"My poor love. The things you have to endure." Telki patted and smoothed his hair in sympathy.

"Oh, you might find this interesting. I had a new Khajiit in Passwall," he said.

"You do? Who?" She sat up.

"Her name was Dahini. She'd actually come to see me. Mostly sane, so I had to send her back, but she claims something is coming our way. Something that will change Tamriel for centuries to come." He looked up into the sky, contemplating that for a moment, but the ground was cold and Telki laying on top of him still was very distracting.

"She couldn't say what? Or how to prepare for it, or stop it? Could she even say who sent her? How did she know?"

Shrugging, he replied, "She has Sight, like you, only instead of auras, she Sees the future. I advised her to go seek out the Moth Priests, if you wanted to find her. I think her visions are pretty vague, though. Three things come at the same time, then something about two dragons, then white marble or something? I don't know; I was doing the fishstick."

"That's my Rommy, got all his priorities in order." Telki lovingly smoothed down his hair, then kissed him for all she was worth. "Come inside and have some cider, Murril will be so glad to see you. She's even started venturing out in the yard some."

"Really?" he asked, surprised and relieved. "That's great! She doesn't even like leaving the Palace at New Sheoth without me, so that's a good step."

"Well, she stuck to Lucia and Francois like a shadow, but it's a start, isn't it?" Telki was feeling a little smug. "Come on, already. You might even surprise her into a squeal." It took both hands and her low center of gravity, but she pulled Rommy vertical and ushered him inside.

"Muuur-ril! Someone's here to see you!" Telki sang, even as she pulled out a pitcher of cider from cool storage for Rommy. The sound of pattering feet could be heard descending from the library tower's second story moments before a blur of yellow and cream attached itself to Rommy's side like a burr.

"And how's the youngest member of my Court?" Rommy asked the small Altmer girl, who looked up at him and grinned, then hid her face against his side. "She's been good, I hope? No rubbing soup into your hair again?"

"As good as gold and sweeter than honey." Telki winked at the young girl, getting down cups enough for everyone. "Would you like to join us for some cider, Murril?"

The girl nodded, then proceeded to make it difficult for Rommy to move until he finally gave up, shrank her, and put her in his breast pocket, where she peeped out the top, apparently quite content to stay right there.

Telki looked askance at the two, then shrugged. Murril was content, so why should she object? "Don't forget to change her back later. All I need is to worry about her literally getting underfoot," she eyed her cups dubiously. "And what in tarnation am I going to put her cider in now?"

"A thimble?" he suggested, helping her by pulling out some napkins. "Did you want me to make something to go with this? I see all the stuff I baked last time is long gone."

"A week, Rom. You were gone a week! Of course all the nummies are gone. They barely lasted two days." The man's baking was sinfully delicious. "How about just shrinking her cup to fit? Thimbles don't really keep well around here. They tend to wind up helmets for toys or used as parts for tinkering."

"I can do that," he glanced down at his shirt, where the little elf looked back up at him with big eyes. "Sure you don't want to join us normal size?" In response, she sank down into his pocket. He gave Telki a helpless look.

"What can I say? She's a Daddy's Girl." Telki let the smile blossom.

"I'm not—" he glaced at her, startled, and his pocket rustled.

"Ask her," Telki prodded.

"Romulus! Didn't expect you back so soon." Gideon came in through the back door, looking rather grubby. The wood chips sticking to his sweaty skin announced to all and sundry what he'd been doing. "Telki, we're nearly done with the wood, just the bathhouse and the greenhouse to go." She gave him a grateful kiss and hug, wrinkling her nose just a bit. Hard work was fragrant work.

"I'd have been back sooner, if there wasn't another fish war," he grumbled, then glanced the other man over. "How's your Guilty Initiate?" Rommy never could remember the boy's name, and didn't really bother to try. The lower member of Gideon's Order had helped the Paladin's girlfriend run off, and while he sympathized, he thought the kid should have at least asked a question or twelve before making the assumptions he had, let alone acting upon them so drastically.

"Haffod is coming along. Telki was not gentle the first day, then the dragon attacked, and that really made things interesting. Right now? He's putting away all the wood I cut."

"The offer still stands to turn him into a donkey," Rommy reminded him, going over to one pantry and pulling out flour.

"Now now, Rommy. The boy does a good enough job making an ass of himself. He needs no help." Telki still hadn't forgiven him. She had no problem giving him all the dirtiest jobs, including swamping out the septic tank. If he hadn't been introduced to the concept of "godly toil" in the Order, he was certainly getting acquainted with it now.

"Any word from Shell?" he asked, glancing back at Gideon. He knew the decreasing amount of letters had to be bothering the man; he'd be bothered. Murril popped out of his pocket long enough to steal a snowberry as he arranged the various bowls of fruit.

"Aye, a short one. Apparently, she has no love for either falmer or ghostly cliffracers. I shudder to think who introduced her to the latter, and how." Gideon's face pinked, "And apparently, she met another of my Order. Shor alone knows who, with what she hinted of the stories he shared." He laughed, "And she got an invitation to join our Order."

Eyebrows flinging themselves skywards, Rommy gave a short laugh, "An elf in the Order of Shor: How did she manage that?"

"The member was one of the Old Knights in his cups. He thought her fox coloring was a sign, especially after she gave his squire a nosebleed just by flirting."

Wiping flour off his hands, Rommy turned to consider Gideon. "How widespread is your Order? If I didn't know better, I'd say it sounds like she's back in Skyrim, or at least just over the Morrowind border."

"I didn't want to get my hopes up," Gideon admitted. "The majority of our temples and holdings are in Skyrim, but enough of us are bit by the wanderbug to spread word of Shor across Tamriel. One of my teachers spent twenty years wandering around Hammerfell before returning to Shor's Keep."

"Is Sam talking, or is he too busy trying to play nice for Merc?" Rommy asked, returning to his baking, slender fingers moving at twice the speed of a mortal's as he arranged ingredients by sight. He'd given up using recipes over a century earlier. There came a point it was stupid to pretend he was anything other than what he was, even to himself.

"He's not telling where she is, the infuriating thing," Telki humphed, setting a cold mug of cider at Rommy's elbow. "Drink up, you. It's bound to have been a dry flight here, and there you go getting elbow deep in dough first."

He gave her a mock-severe look. "You said the kids have been deprived of sweets practically since I left: How could I let such a thing continue?"

"Drink. First." Telki poked each word in his chest. "The only reason they're 'deprived' is because they went through the whole batch like a swarm of Sam's pirates. You can drink a bloomin' mug of cider first. I promise you, they won't keel over from deprivation in the meantime."

Taking a dutiful swallow of cider, Rommy grinned, kissed her, and went right back to what he was doing. He could drink while working, after all. There was a slight giggle from his chest area, then Murril poking her head out long enough to look around, point to the snowberries, and pop back in. He adjusted the ingredient amounts to make snowberry crostatas first, then took another swallow of cider. Telki was right; it had been a dry trip.

The door crashed open, letting in the sounds of drunken singing and snoring, and some fighting. Sanguine walked through, carrying Merc bridal style, a rueful smirk on his face as he kicked the door shut behind him.

"And speak of the Daedra. Sam, why is Merc unconscious?"

"Well, he'd never had Cyrodiilic— _hic!—_ homebrew before. Backwoods stuff. Had to literally beat one of the women off him with a— _hic!_ —stick. My Muffin is mine," he said firmly.

"Ahem, remember, there  _are_ people you have to share with. But yes, thank you for protecting him." Telki ran a worried eye over Mercutio, but he seemed to be sleeping peacefully, rather than blackout drunk or drugged.

"I will— _hic!—_ share him with you whenever you want, Sis. Just say the— _hic!—_ word!  _Hic! Hic!_ I love thish stuff!" he crowed, sitting right down on the floor and cuddling Merc to him happily, being careful of his horns.

"Oh? Does my supermead now have competition for your attention?"

"Nope," Sam giggled.

"Sam," Rommy said, giving the other Prince an arch look, "Did you just suggest a threesome to my fiance? Because I told you how I felt about that."

"I am willing to include you any time you— _hic!—_ ask," Sam reminded him, falling over backwards. "Treenord! Hello!" he added, finding himself looking up Gideon's legs when his head nearly landed on the man's feet. "You can join— _hic!—_ too. More the merrier!"

Gideon shook his head at Sam's antics. "How you can suggest such things, and come across like a kid asking for playtime astounds me."

"I am asking for playtime," Sam reminded him, reaching up the hand that wasn't cuddling Merc to caress Gideon's calf. "You're sweaty," he said approvingly.

"That happens when you've been chopping wood." Gideon gently removed his leg from Sam's grip. "I'd suggest you try it sometime, but drinking and sharp objects do not mix well."

"I can use a greatsword. And I have a great sword. I can show you," Sam pawed at the air in the general direction of Gideon, trying to find his leg again.

Telki laughed, "Save your greatsword for Merc, when you two are ready. When  _both_ of you are ready, Sam." She knew better than to give Sam wiggle room. She needn't have worried; Sam had fallen asleep.

"Is it safe to move him, or would we be in danger of the infamous octogrip?" Telki studied them. That couldn't be comfortable.

Rommy regarded them for a few seconds before shrinking them both as he had Murril, rolling them onto a lettuce leaf, and putting it on the counter. Murril hopped out of his pocket and tucked them under a dishrag before stealing a blueberry and hopping onto Rommy's hand, holding to his thumb until she could jump back into his pocket.

Telki giggled, she couldn't help it. "Don't let the Cabbage lady get wind of this." Rommy shuddered, then smiled. More and more, this place was becoming a second home.

.

* * *

.

Ama looked over the map and tilted her head, white hair falling across her forehead into blue eyes, and tried turning it upside down. It didn't help. "Remind me to steal Belethor blind next time we're in Whiterun. This map makes no sense." Ama's tail twitched in irritation.

"Well, I didn't trust the map Atahbah offered. That one dealt in skooma, no matter what she professed otherwise," Nala sniffed.

Wemie shook her golden head at the pair of white-striped Dagi-Raht. "The coin was good, though, getting her here. Pity she was headed to Solitude. Caravan headed for Helgen would have dropped us on Telki's doorstep, but with Helgen gone…" she shrugged.

"Yeah, and can you believe the tales around that?" Ama shivered. "I think the Imperials were just trying to cover a major setback. I mean, dragons? That bard back at the Bannered Mare wouldn't shut up about them." They couldn't get out of Whiterun fast enough to suit her. She detested that Mikael character. She refused to be another notch on his bedpost; she had more respect for herself, thank you. She hoped he enjoyed the nettle present she tucked down his trousers. She couldn't think of a more deserving fellow.

"Mmmm, nope. Dragons are real. Too many people seen 'em, too many dragon scales and dragon bones for proof. That one you'll have to believe whether you like it or not." Nala, casually tossing a small firebolt between her fingers, looked over her twin's shoulder. "Have you tried turning it on its side?"

"Yes, no, maybe?" Ama turned it sideways. "Nope, still confusing." She dropped her map a bit, giving Nala a weird look. "Wait, you mean she really used  _dragon bone_  to make my daggers? I'm throwing dead dragons around? Neat!"

"We can't possibly be that lost. Surely if we follow this road south, we'll either find it, or someone that knows it. A lake is a fairly hard landmark to miss." Wemie shook her massive golden mane behind her, and tied it up with a leather thong. Being born Ohmes-Raht made her taller and stronger than her sisters. The fact she was born first made her overly bossy and protective on top of that.

"This is our baby sister we're talking about, remember? It wouldn't surprise me at all if that house is on the  _bottom_ of the lake," Ama huffed, finally balling the map up in frustration, and stuffing it back in her satchel.

"Or perched in a tree. She'd do it, don't try to tell me otherwise," added Nala, her little firebolt now doing loops between her palms.

"Yes, but can we try normal means, first? Surely someone somewhere around here can lead us there? I knew we should have asked in Riverwood, but no, someone swore she knew how to read a map!" Wemie shook a finger at Ama.

"I can read a map! Just not one drawn by a five year old on a sugar high!" Ama bridled. "At least we're close, not like when you had us in Hammerfell, circling for days."

"That was the compass, remember? There was a lodestone outcrop, not Wemie's fault, and not a map," Nala reminded them. "Can I see it?"

A small figure darted out onto the road, looking for a place to hide. Lucia had wanted her to hide, but as a game, rather than her usual habit, and Daddy had smiled so she'd done it. It might be a bit far from the house, but Murril knew that all the other kids knew all the good hiding places there, so she'd run further off. It was scary, but they had been nice enough to cast Courage on her when she'd hidden under the bed this morning, and had reapplied it every time she started to get nervous. So far, it had worked pretty well.

"Oh! Hello there! Can you help us? We're looking for our sister's house. Her name is Telki? Have you heard of her?" Ama squatted down to be on level with the pretty little girl, privately wondering what a wee Altmer baby was doing out here: They were rarer than a Dunmer's smile. Nala behind her was making the usual dawww noises, while Wemie was putting her sword back in its sheath.

Murril stared at her, then tilted her head, oversized ears twitching. Queen Telki—Chief Madman Swaddler, she corrected herself—had sisters? Murril had had a sister once. That was a bad direction for thoughts. She steered them away like Daddy had been showing her. Her eyes focused on the pretty Khajiit again. She couldn't answer, even the Courage spell couldn't make her answer.

"Little one, are you alone? Is there someone with you?" Wemie didn't like the idea of the little girl by herself out here. "Either we can help you back to Riverwood, if you need it, or we can wait here while you go get an adult?"

Murril thought about this, shook her head to the first question, nodded to the second, then ran back to the house. An Adult. Not Sanguine, then. Merc was with Sanguine, so he was probably Not An Adult for this purpose, right? Lydia was an Adult, but Lydia was scary and Human, so she wouldn't grab Lydia. Gideon was nice, but everyone called him Treenord, so could he go from where he was rooted? Daddy was a good choice. Telki was…was Telki an Adult for this? Erandur was probably best choice, but sometimes Erandur was talking to his God-Lady, and his ears sparkled, and he was Not To Be Interrupted.

The first person she ran into was Blaise, and now she was It. It was not Adult, and Blaise was not Adult, but Blaise was the first person she saw, and would probably know who to bring, right? Grabbing Blaise's hand, she started dragging him back toward the road.

"Murril, hey Murril, where are you taking me…why are you taking me? Oh, hello." Suddenly, Blaise knew why Murril had dragged him out in the road. There were three cat ladies, one fussing at the other one. She stopped midrant when she saw the kids.

"Oh, hello to you, too. Um, do you know where Telki lives?" Nala put her firebolt out, not caring for how greedily the little boy's eyes followed it, and adjusted her red mage robes.

"Uh, yeah? Why?" Blaise regarded the strange ladies with wary curiosity.

"We've been lost on the road for days now. Are we near there?" Wemie explained patiently.

"Uh, yeah, I suppose, but I'm not really supposed to bring strangers to the house." Blaise moved Murril protectively behind him, and started edging back towards the house.

"Oh, we're not strangers, we're her sisters!" Nala was quick to correct him.

That stopped Blaise cold. "Mom has sisters?"

" _MOM?"_

.

* * *

.

"Mom! Hey Momma! There's someone here to see you!"

"Blaise, what are you talking about? I wasn't expecting…" Telki's words died in her throat as she came out into the dining room to see her three sisters standing there. "Well, I certainly wasn't expecting this."

"Surprise?" Ama looked somewhat sheepish. They all took their time drinking each other in a moment. The sisters had been on the road together for some time, and moved like a well practiced unit. Each of them grown and hardened on the road, they'd admit it, but somehow, they still expected to find their baby sister unchanged. It was somewhat shocking to realize she'd grown and changed as much as they had.

Oh, her eyes were just as bright as always, and her smile just as sunny, but there were shadows of the things she'd seen, and the things she'd done. She'd always been fit and held herself well, but like the peaks of Skyrim, her time here had honed that posture and physique razor sharp. She wasn't the baby sister they remembered, not quite. It startled them, and they all tried to cover it as they came to terms with it.

Wemie surveyed the house with approval, taking in the sturdy construction and defensible nature of the place. Nala nosed closer to the nearest stack of books, eyebrows rising at some of the rare titles and eclectic subject matters. Ama almost involuntarily did a quick audit of her sister's house, and came up with a worth to shame a jarl. Holy hep cats, but Sis had done well for herself. It didn't help with the footing problem, just set her poor mind further agog. Wemie and Nala were in similar predicaments.

Telki squealed, her face lighting up, and barreled into the middle of her sisters, fiercely hugging them by turns; they returned the hugs with fervor. For a moment, it was as if all the years separated had never happened. They were back home after a summer visit with the Grands.

"Mara save us, there's more of them." Erandur watched the hugfest with mock horror. Really, how had Nirn survived all this time with more than one Telki loose upon it?

Rommy merely shook his head as he emerged from the kitchen, picking Murril up when she tugged on his sleeve and leaning against the wall with her, simply watching. It was actually kind of sad, when he contrasted this exuberance to his reception with his own siblings. He'd been thinking of them a lot lately. He banished the thought, and Murril cuddled up to him, eyeing the strangers with wary curiosity. Leaning over slightly to Erandur, he muttered, "So…how much do you know about them?" She certainly hadn't warned  _him_  they were coming.

"Honestly? Not much. Telki guards her past with silence, since she can't bring herself to outright lie," Erandur shrugged. A lot of little clues over the years were starting to make sense, seeing her interact with her sisters. "She tends to view them as vulnerable, especially given how she walks roughshod over enemies, up to and including Daedra. I only knew she had family, and that she meant to keep them safe."

"So…the fact that she came into this world as part of a three piece set didn't seem worth mentioning?" he asked, shrinking Murril as her nerves shot up and sticking her in his pocket.

"I don't think it was so much a case of 'worth mentioning' as it was protecting." Erandur studied the very guilty looks Telki was tossing Her Boys, along with the very calculating looks Wemie was giving Telki and the men. Erandur couldn't help himself, he waved his ringed hand, wiggling the fingers at her. He grinned at the widened eyes and knowing nod.

"So, little Sis, got something you need to tell us?" Telki winced at the tone. It was the same one Wemie would use when she took the last slice of bread and didn't tell anyone.

"Um, well, how long you staying? This could take a while."

"Start now, and start with why you and that Dunmer are wearing matching rings." Wemie was rather overwhelmed, the only reason her voice wasn't screeching or hysterical. No, when she got overwhelmed, she got quieter, stiller and more stonelike.

"Telki! You got married?" Ama was breathless with excitement. "Details, all the details." Ama pulled her over to the breakfast bench and sat her down, Telki still looking worriedly over her shoulder at Wemie. How was she gonna fix that?

Rommy slid down against the wall. "Blaise," he whispered to the boy, "butter up your new aunts by bringing them that plate of snowberry tarts I just made?" He briefly considered putting Charm spells on the bunch to make the newcomers more receptive, then decided against it. He'd suggest it to Telki later if she looked like she needed the help, but she probably wouldn't appreciate him doing it unasked.

"Sure thing, Papa." He gave Rommy a sly look, "Can I help myself to some of the jazbay ones?"

"When they get out of the oven, the biggest has your name on it," he replied with a wink.

"Thanks, Papa!" Blaise left in a hurry to get the plate, drawing stares with his haste. His newest papa put on an innocent look, interlacing his fingers over his knee.

Wemie studied him, not fooled for a minute. "Alright, he called Telki 'mom' and you 'papa,' where's your ring, then?" Baby sister was poly? It was and wasn't surprising at the same time.

"I don't have one yet," he replied, eyes twinkling playfully. They were glowing softly, his Sheo a little closer to the surface with amusement. Luckily, they simply seemed a very bright gold at the moment, and didn't actually give off light. That would probably be more explaining than anyone wanted to do today.

"Which reminds me, think y'all can get Mom here for the wedding?" Telki winced as another peal of squeals went off, all of her sisters talking over each other, all demanding answers, at turns excited, confused, and hurt. She hadn't been looking forward to this, but the time where ignorance was protection was probably well past.

Eyes narrowed as he watched them, Rommy glanced up at Erandur to see if he was picking up the signs of stress that he was. Telki's ears were laid back, though she seemed to be trying to keep them up, and her puffed tail was tucked under her legs, twitching now and again. Her shoulders were high, and her face tense and slightly drawn. Erandur's mouth turned down, and his eyes pinched as he saw it too.

Enough was enough; he hadn't put up with his family making him miserable, and he wasn't about to let hers make her unhappy, either. Abruptly, all the noise in the room stopped, though for a moment mouths were still moving. "Please keep it down," Rommy requested, his closed fist shining green with the Silence spell, "You'll wake up Sam and Merc." It was as good an excuse as any: If there was any situation that he didn't want Sanguine walking in on, it was this one.

All three pairs of eyes widened in awe, Nala studying his hand intently. She pointed at the fist, then Romulus, and then a thumb firmly back at herself.

He released the spell, smiling slightly at them. "I can write it down for you later," he said. Old Cyrodiilic custom was that if you read a spell tome, you created another one before a year was up. He had no idea if it were still in practice, but it was only polite.

"Thank you. That will be a very useful spell the next family reunion. Too many cousins." Nala shuddered delicately.

"Anybody care for some pastries? They're still hot!" Blaise carried in a big tray filled with snowberry tarts, a dish towel protecting his hands under it.

Murril wiggled in his pocket, wanting out to have a treat. Rommy put his hand over the pocket lightly. "I'll go see if the others got woken up," he said, standing. Last thing they needed was Sam walking down in Dremora form. He moved quickly around the stairs and up to the bedrooms where they had carefully carried the pair. He hadn't been able to get them off the leaf to make big again without waking them, so there was now a giant cabbage leaf covering one of the beds. Which would also be difficult to explain, now that he thought about it.

He pulled Murril out and made her her normal size. She beamed up at him, letting go of his fingers before running over to the door to examine the goings on from a safe place. Rommy smiled slightly before glancing the sleeping pair over, then layering an illusion of Sanguine's Breton form over them in case Telki's sisters were inclined to wander. Then he popped himself outside to the woodpile. "Gideon," he said, startling Guilty Initiate.

"Aye Rom, 'tis it?" Gideon rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. He'd been intending to take a bath, then sit Haffod down for meditation in case the boy ever unlocked the ability to Shout their Order was known for, but then Telki had reminded him the forge would need more wood, and so would the boiler, and could he please make sure the oven for the greenhouse was stocked, too? Woman could denude a forest by herself.

"Our sisters-in-law just showed up  _en masse,"_ he explained without preamble.

"We have sisters-in-law?" Gideon turned to Rommy, wood cutting forgotten.

"One elder sister with sharp eyes, and did you know Telki was a triplet?" he shook his head in disbelief. "Is that a litter, or is that racist?"

"She rarely to never talks about her life before coming to Skyrim, and I have no idea," Gideon shrugged. He'd be lying if he said her keeping things like that from him didn't hurt.

"I can understand that. There are a lot of people who want her dead or would try to influence her. I…I sort of knew she had family, but she never actually told me," he said, recalling the memories she had shared. "I saw them in her mind."

Tilting his head, he examined Gideon's expression. Actually being inside the man's head while he was undercover in Alinor had given him a bit more insight to his thoughts. "I wouldn't let it bother me too much, if I were you. Merc doesn't talk about his family, either. Sometimes, it just doesn't come up, and sometimes, there are reasons not to bring it up."

"And still knowing all that doesn't keep it from smarting a bit." Gideon allowed himself a long drawn out sigh, trying to relax all the tense muscles again. "It makes sense, especially given the way she doesn't back down from anything. Her family is bound to be an easier target than she is, but still, it makes me feel like I'm not important enough to her."

Rommy thought for a long minute, looking down. "I…really have no idea if I should tell you this or let her do it, but…Gideon, her family wasn't the only thing I saw in her head. You matter to her, maybe more than you'll ever know."

Gideon bowed his head, and let that sink in. "Thank you. It does help, hearing it from you."

"What can I say?" he shifted, uncomfortable, "I have to keep you all sane, right?" He didn't want to get into how Gideon's sensitivity reminded him of his sister, and he'd become oddly protective of him because of it. She'd had a heart that bruised so easily, as his did. Now he was very uncomfortable. "So, want to meet them?"

Gideon chuckled, allowing Rommy to shift the mood. "What? Afraid we'd take over? New Geoth has a ring to it."

"As much as I would love to watch you in one of the Insulting Fish Wars…" Rommy grinned. "Want me to de-stench you, or do you want to meet them all sweaty and shirtless and probably looking like something out of a cheap Breton romance novel?"

"I would not mind smelling fresher." Gideon wrinkled his nose, "Right now, my own nose wants to be elsewhere."

Amused, he removed all trace of Gideon's activities—the Guilty Initiate was staring again, and he was really starting to get this itching urge to pluck out his eyeballs—and produced a comb, handing it over. "Want a shirt, or are you still going for Breton romance novel? At the very least, it might give Telki ten seconds free from questions."

Gideon blushed, but straightened up. "Do you know? I think I will go for the Breton Romance bit. It made an impression on Shell, after all." He gave Rommy a wicked grin. "I gather that doesn't happen often."

Laughing heartily, Rommy headed back towards the house, pointing at the Guilty Initiate as he passed. "Stop staring at me."

The poor boy yelped, and began picking up the stack of firewood he just dropped, scurrying off towards the back of the greenhouse the moment he had the last stick in hand. The Mad God snorted and forced his eyes to dim. "He would make a decent scamp, were he only not affiliated."

"Rommy, no scamping the poor, very sorry he ever interfered initiate." Gideon tried for a firm voice, but the underlying humor colored every word.

Whatever he muttered under his breath sounded very irritated and like it might involve painful games of ball. He stopped when he opened the door, motioning for Gideon to proceed him. With any luck, they'd be so distracted by Gideon's pectorals they would forget he went upstairs only to walk in the front door. Maybe they'd give Telki a chance to breathe, too. That'd be nice.

Three pairs of eyes widened appreciatively when Gideon walked in, barechested, hair flowing, and wearing a matching ring to both Telki and Erandur. For a moment, they could only stare, everything they had been about to ask flying right out of their minds in the face of that much male perfection on display.

"Telkiii, you has some 'splainin' to dooo," Ama poked her sister in the shoulder. "And it better include all the juicy details."

"But, um, start with the part where I can find one of those for myself." Wemie really, really liked what she saw.

The blush started high on his cheeks, but spread slowly to encompass ears, forehead, and a large swathe of that magnificent chest, before getting lost in the equally epic chest fuzz. Rommy snickered, moving silently around the perimeter of the room to the kitchen. His plan had worked to perfection, and he had jazbay tarts to pull from the oven.

Murril crept down the stairs, watching the exuberant strangers with wide eyes before hurrying over to Telki and cuddling up to her, not liking all the noise and tension. Telki quickly pulled Murril into her lap, and cuddled the little girl close. Rommy was back out like a shot at the feel of her distress in his mind, handing her a tart and levitating one over to Blaise without really thinking about it, settling next to Telki so Murril could cuddle both of them.

"So, you taking apprentices? Because I really want to be your apprentice. Yesterday, if it were possible." Nala watched his easy use of magic—the kind of ease only developed after decades of study—with a mixture of awe and envy. His age spells must be killer if he still looked this young.

"Uh," Rommy flushed. "Not really." That took Nala back a bit. What grandmaster mage didn't want an apprentice for the grunt work?

"Will you still show me some of your spells anyway?" Rabid persistence was a cherished family trait.

He glanced at his fiance. "You're all like this, aren't you?"

Telki, relieved and trying not to laugh, finally choked out an answer. "I'm admitting to nothing."

"Uh-huh," Rommy said agreeably, then went for instant revenge. "Why don't you ask Telki? She knows quite a bit, being Arch Mage and all."

"Wh _aaat?_  Seriously, Telki. You disappear, never send word, never write, and then have  _all the adventures_! No. Fair. " Ama folded her arms and huffed. "Maybe I shoulda helped that Brynjolf bloke. Maybe I'd at least have a little adventure to share."

"Oh dear, did Brynjolf meet all of you?" Telki winced. She would have to take Riften off her list of places she could visit. The smirk alone would be unbearable.

"Eh, wasn't impressed, myself. Too…smarmy," Wemie shuddered delicately.

"Who called?" a voice echoed down from the bedroom, groggily. The Ohmes-Raht's head whipped around, eyes narrowing.

Before anyone could respond, a knock came at the door. Murril had just about had it with people and dove under the table. Rommy slid right down on the floor with her to try to coax her out.

"Telki, were we expecting anyone else?"

"Honey, I wasn't expecting anyone today." Telki pulled her bow out of the corner, even as Gideon called his hammer to his hand, the Artifact streaking down from their room like a mini comet.

"I never heard of danger knocking on the door, but with our luck? Not taking chances." Gideon made his way to the door.

"Telki, honey, what  _have_ you been doing?" Ama, apparently, was the only one of the sisters that could put two words together. Wemie was still squinting from the hammer's flight, and Nala was goggling Telki's bow.

"Um, a lot? I've helped a lot of people, and made a lot of dangerous enemies doing it. One reason I didn't write home. Didn't want anyone finding you guys." Telki gave them her best 'whoopsie' smile.

Wemie sighed, and loosened the sword on her back. "Never half measures with you, is it?" she pointed a sharp fingernail at Telki. "And you  _will_ tell me everything you've done since you left home. Everything. No more sidestepping, no more hiding." Wemie nodded towards Sam upstairs, "Including why you let a  _Sanguinist_  in the house with children."

"That's my fault," Rommy called from under the table. "He's sort of my brother. Does your entire family have Sight?"

"Rommy, I didn't know I had Sight until you told me," Telki huffed, then nodded to Gideon.

"Who's there?" he called.

"Friend Gideon!" a cheerful, sort of worried voice called through the door. "Is the Grand Champion there? I can't find him!"

"Fanny!" Gideon opened the door to let the little frizzlehaired Bosmer in. "It seems everyone is visiting today. He's under the table."

Rommy's Adoring Fan stopped dead at the sight of all the people, round face going blank in surprise before bouncing in place. "Oh! By Azura, by Azura! There are so many kitty ladies!"

"He's adorable! I want one!" Ama cooed.

Fanny blushed, the color clashing horribly with his pointy yellow hair. "Oh, by Azura! You are quite pretty, kitty lady, but I belong to the Grand Champion."

"Who is annoyed. He just left. What's wrong now?" Rommy asked, peering over the table with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, by Azura!" Fanny winced. "We've looked all over. Goldie looked and Plumwickle looked and we even asked Duke Cicero."

"Fanny, stop.  _Why_  were you looking?" Telki interrupted.

"We can't find Murril!" he cried, and shattered into potatoes. They rolled, wailing, across the floor. Wemie leapt out of the way as one rolled toward her feet.

"She's here, sweetie. Did Rommy forget to tell you?" Telki sighed, reaching out without looking for the sack Erandur was already handing her, embroidered with Fanny's name one bored evening.

"I did tell him," Rommy sighed, leaning his forehead on the table. "I even left a note with Haskill. Who is a bird. Nevermind." With a little mental twist, he changed Haskill back into Haskill, feeling him depart promptly for the Isles. He did not want to know why his steward had been building a nest. Except for the part of him that did.

"Honey, why is Haskill a bird?"

Rommy glanced back up at her, then down at Murril, who looked rather like she was expecting an earthquake, and back at Telki. "Can it wait?" He was getting some interesting emanations from her sisters, as well. It was nice to know Telki was even able to throw off her family.

Telki sighed, "I suppose so. Fanny, who all do you have looking for Murril?" She wondered how much hassle it was going to be to calm all the alarms. If Rommy had to leave again just after he got here, she would be more than a little irate. It was her turn, dast it!

"Oh, everyone. The Girls and Stanley made a search party and Cabbage Lady was wailing about it, and the Duke was very concerned that she not be left alone, all alone, alone and in the dark, and the Duchess even offered to look. I was worried about that, but after the last talk the Grand Champion gave her, I don't think she'd do anything…well…Oh, by Azura."

Telki gave a deep heartfelt sigh. "I don't suppose sending Goldie around with an 'alls well' will do it, will it?" Dang it, she was not going to cry, she was not going to cry!

Rommy had finally gotten Murril out by reminding her that it was her job to guard Fanny when he was potatoes, and she hesitantly ran over to Erandur to hide behind him with the bag. Rommy instantly pulled Telki to him, giving her a lingering kiss and to Oblivion with who was watching. "I should probably take her home anyway," he muttered. "I'll be back tonight if I can, tomorrow if I can't."

"Heart's promise?"

"If I have to cheese them all, I will," he teased. "The concept of time out is so useful."

"Hurry back to me. I'm a little worried Cicero might've had another episode, from the sound of it."

"He still has your blanket from last time. I think he sleeps with it, actually," he said, pulling her back for a kiss. After a long moment he pulled away, smiling ruefully down at her. "Love you," he whispered, then beckoned to Murril, who launched herself at his side to cling like cat hair.

"Love you, too. Hurry back, you." Telki bent down and kissed Murril's forehead. "Take care, you. Love you, too." Murril held up a single potato for Telki to kiss, too, which she did. "Take care, and love you, too."

"By Azura!"

"Ladies, it was lovely to meet you," Rommy said, giving his future sisters-in-law a court bow, just to be a pest. Then he lifted Murril and headed out the door.

"Nala, make a batch of the good hot chocolate. Telki's got some tales to be sharing." Wemie folded her arms and gave Telki a stern look, "All of them, starting now."


	2. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two of family interrogations dawns bright and clear, bringing new questions and even more uninvited guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This awesome image comes to us via the marvelous manipulations of one Sir_Douglas_of_Fir and one Evil_is_Relative
> 
> check them out on Deviant 
> 
> https://sir-douglas-of-fir.deviantart.com/
> 
> https://evil-is-relative.deviantart.com/

Rommy was glad he’d had Erandur show him how to summon Arvak. The spectral horse didn’t get out of the Soul Cairn nearly enough, and he didn’t want to butterfly in to the house at the moment. So, he rode, like a normal person. Granted, he rode a spectral horse with flaming blue hair like some kind of avenging spirit, but he’d already established he was a mage, and if Fanny falling to potatoes hadn’t fazed Telki’s sisters all that much, he doubted Arvak would.

Honestly, at this point he’d be surprised if they didn’t insist on learning to summon him, too.

The first thing he saw were the small figures swarming all over the front, playing an extremely complicated game of hide and seek in the lowering light. Ama was winning; he couldn’t tell much else. Pulling on Arvak’s reins to get him to halt, he simply examined it for a moment, trying to figure out some sort of pattern of rules and failing. It was utterly chaotic, and he loved it. Glancing at the house, he wondered if they were distracted enough he could get in and see Telki before they noticed.

“Papa!! Papapapapapapapaa!” Sofie set up the chant upon spotting him, and the others took it up quickly.

Well, that had worked out predictably. Rommy grinned and slid off Arvak’s back, glad the spectral horse was used to the children’s antics. “How much trouble am I in?” he asked the girl with a wink.

“You’re on time. Why would you be in trouble?” Alesan asked, confused. He patted Arvak’s wither.

“Never assume anything when it comes to people’s feelings and women,” Rommy advised him. The boy was of-age to need the advice sooner rather than later, anyway. “Doubly so when the woman in question is your mother.”

“Well, she was mumbling rather bad punishments for the Isles if they didn’t let you come home today,” Francois’ little brow furrowed. “What does ‘keelhaul’ mean, anyways?”

The road brightened slightly as he laughed. “It means I’m glad I’m home when I said I would be,” he replied, letting Arvak loose to play. Glancing at Ama, he gave a slight bow. “I thought you would still be inside, hearing of your sister’s grand adventures. Probably until next week.”

“I got restless, and my nieces and nephews needed someone to play with,” Ama shrugged. “Anyways, my ability to cope cracked somewhere around ‘and then I survived a dragon attack.’ Dragons! Sheesh. I’ll catch up after a while.”

“So you missed the part where she’s a legendary hero that saved the world?” he asked, tilting his head a bit. So far, Ama was the sister that reminded him most of Telki, though they all had a bit of her energy and manner. Ama was outgoing and exuberant, with just a hint of sharpness, of secrets about her, while Wemie struck him as thoughtful and responsible to a fault, and Nala delicate and lady-like, if just a bit pushy, until something magical came up and her entire demeanor changed to one of unbridled enthusiasm. He’d bet no few mages had felt positively hunted when she turned that look on them.

“No, that’s the part where I had to take a breather. I’ll save all the Daedric exploits for another day.”

His chuckle was rather dark and probably not reassuring in the least. “Probably a good idea,” he told her, then politely offered his arm. “Shall we go back inside? I have a million things to bake and it’s about to rain.”

“Why thank you, kind sir. No wonder she’s adding you to her collection. I think I may be jealous,” Ama took his arm blithely, cuddling it close. A bit of a flirt, too, it seemed. Perhaps he should be comparing her more to Shell than Telki.

“Talk to me a few minutes; you’ll lose that,” he joked, giving her a wry look.

“Nope, don’t think so. You’re cute, you’re good with the kids, you have the best manners of anyone I ever met,  _and_ you keep up with Telki,” Ama listed off in a very matter-of-fact voice.

“Well, shame on everyone else’s manners, but what on Nirn makes you think I’m able to keep up with Telki?” he laughed, opening the door for her.

Ama gazed at him with suddenly somber eyes. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “Other than commuting to work, yes.”

“Growing up, more than the rest of us, Telki was always odd one out. No serious friends, no serious relationships. She now has how many husbands? And kids? It’s a flipping miracle. I could kiss Skyrim for giving her all that.”

“Make sure your lips are dry,” he advised, thinking on that. “She showed me a bit of that. I was surprised. She’s so warm and loving—everyone knows the moment she’s around. It’s like the world lights up.”

“Eh, I guess back home nobody could appreciate her sunshine?” Ama looked around at the cloudy day, lips quirking at the irony. “Maybe she needed someplace like Skyrim to really shine?”

“Well, it certainly brought out more in her than she ever expected was there,” he said, thinking back on the memories she had shared, then wondered if she’d intended for him to be able to examine them so much after the fact. He paused at the door, watching the carefully controlled chaos of Telki explaining her life to her sisters. Wemie took it all in with a sober face, nodding at certain points, while Nala looked positively ecstatic, probably at the new fount of magical access her sister had unwittingly provided her.

He had a sudden pang of worry about how she was going to explain him and Sam. The urge to bake his problems away surfaced, and he guided Ama to a chair and headed to the kitchen, stopping to kiss Telki’s cheek on the way. She seemed somewhat frazzled, but not so frazzled she didn’t turn to catch his lips where she wanted them, deepening it into a proper kiss. She wasn’t sure which sister wolf whistled. Equal chance it was either Nala or Ama. Rommy chuckled and winked at her. “Any requests? For the kitchen, mind.”

“Honey nut treats!” Four voices, in unison, equal emphasis.

Glancing from them to Telki and back again, he shook his head ruefully. “I hope you don’t all make those same sounds, or Sam’ll be down here so fast the stairs won’t make it.” With that, he turned and strode into the kitchen, already levitating things out of the pantry.

“We make no promises! Whoever Sam is, he’ll just have to deal!” Ama really had no clue what she was asking.

“Deal with— _hic!_ —wha’?” Sam asked, the Breton hanging over the railing before his eyes opened properly. “Telki…did Rommy give in and make me two more of you? He got the— _hic!—_ color wrong.”

“Hiii, we’re Telki’s sisters,” Ama piped up with a wave. “I’m Ama, that’s Nala, and the imposing woman in the back is Wemie.” Wemie inclined her head to Sam, still wary of him. She’d met enough sanguinists on the road to know that they could be desperate and dangerous if the need was upon them. This one seemed genial enough, for the moment.

Sam considered them for a long moment, then looked at Telki. “Should I bother getting— _hic!—_ excitable, or should I go cuddle Muffin?”

Telki actually stopped and thought for a moment. “I have no idea, honestly. Ama maybe, Nala maybe, but Wemie’s right out.”

“Too bad. Her hair looks— _hic!—_ really soft,” he said, then sort of slithered to the floor as if his bones had turned to jelly. “Imma…stay here a minute.”

“Sam? Honey, are you okay?” Telki was up out of her chair like a shot.

“I’m a little woozy…some kind hearted person want to come up and help me back to bed?” he asked, fluttering his bloodshot eyes at them.

“Ah, you’re angling for fondling. You’re okay.” Telki eyed him sternly, “I’d help you back to bed, but the fondling is a no go.”

“I’ll just stay here and oggle then,” he might have shrugged; it was difficult to tell when he was laying on the floor, half draped over the landing. His gaze went right down the front of Ama’s blouse.

“Jeez, Sam. Buy me dinner first,” Ama huffed and moved over, covering her cleavage.

“Really? Where do you wanna— _hic!—_ go?” he asked, perking up a bit.

Knowing this could go nowhere good, Rommy leaned out of the kitchen. “Sam, do you remember back in the good old days when I said touch my sisters and I’ll eviscerate you? I’m seriously contemplating bringing that rule back.”

“But your sisters were cute! Even the bitchy one! And these ones are cute! And they’re— _hic!—_ still alive and not overshiny with Aedric blessings!”

Wemie’s lip quirked. “Even this bitchy one?”

“Sober Mead. Favorite mug,” Rommy pointedly said, popping back into the kitchen with a warning look at Sam, who pouted.

“Rommy, I love you,” Telki sang into the kitchen after him, tickled he was already feeling protective of her sisters. A little mote of red light floated out and landed on her cheek, leaving the sensation of a kiss behind.

“Are you this…mushy with the other men?” Wemie prompted from her place against the wall.

“Em?” Telki blushed.

Erandur took that as a challenge, apparently, because the next thing Telki knew, she was being dipped and kissed to a fair thee well. She hadn’t even heard him come back inside from checking on the kids. Three jaws hit the floor, and they looked to be staying there awhile. Dunmer were normally not that publicly demonstrative.

“Yes, she is.” Erandur gently sat her in his lap, commandeering her seat for himself.

“Question answered?” Telki was blushing. Sam was snickering. Erandur looked entirely too pleased with himself. 

Before any of her sisters could reply, there was the thunder of little feet. Apparently, the first star had come out, which was their curfew. All of the kids, fresh from playing in the half-thawed snow, piled into the room, yammering at ninety miles a minute about everything they’d done since they went outside. It was a welcome, familiar babble, reminding Telki all was right with her world. And then she was brought back to earth with the first dripping hug, and the mud tracked in the door.

“Rommy, love, care to do a little housecleaning? Our magpies tracked in half the outside." 

“Baking, transportation, housecleaning; I’m starting to think you like having me around,” he called out with mock accusation as the wet began to steam off the children while they giggled, the mud vanishing altogether.

“Pffft, whatever gave you that idea? The fact I get mopey and angsty when you’re gone too long?”

“You do? I hadn’t noticed!” He walked out with a platter full of honey nut treats, wondering if he should make Sam deaf for a few minutes. “Where’s Gideon?” he asked, glancing around. “I was going to make him a giant sweetroll again.” Really, he just wanted to watch the Nord blush. It was a never-ending source of amusement for him.

“Someone called?” Gideon came in from the bathing room, still rubbing his hair dry and once again looking like something from the cover of a trashy Breton romance. “Did I hear ‘sweetroll’?”

“If you wanted to use one for a hat again like Blaise suggested, I have it in the oven,” Rommy snickered, taking in the expressions of the women in the room. Sam was wide awake again as well, it seemed.

“I’ll be too busy eating it to wear it, I’m famished after all that woodcutting.” Gideon’s eyes strayed to the tray of honey nut treats. “Is Telki about to entertain us? Mercutio’ll be down in a trice, then.”

Rommy jerked his head slightly to all the women, who couldn't seem to decide if they wanted to watch Gideon or the plate, if he were any judge of eye direction. “I’m a little worried it might be a family favorite.”

“It is. Gimme.” Telki was making grabby hands at the hot tray. Having a very good sense of self-preservation for a madman, Rommy handed it over. The delighted hum was positively sinful.

“Who said you get to hold them?” Ama was reaching across Nala to grab a treat off the tray. Nala had telekinesed a treat to each hand already.

“It’s my house!” rebuffed Telki, quickly depositing the tray to grab her own, barely missing getting swiped by Wemie, who did a fair impression of a stooping eagle on the treats.

Gideon watched the squabble with slight horror. “I think maybe you should make another batch.”

“It’s hardening right now,” Rommy smirked.

“I’ll say!” Sam crowed.

“I will Silence you.”

“I will enjoy it.”

“I thought I heard stereo Telkis with nutty treats? Thought I was still dreaming. Am I still dreaming?” A very confused Mercutio stood in the doorway. He hadn’t even combed his hair or changed his clothes before staggering out to investigate. Apparently, stereo Telkis were too curious to resist.

“Muffin!” Sanguine cried happily, sitting right up and wrapping his arms and legs about Merc’s calves and knees, snuggling his face into his thigh. “You look so cute and mussed!”

“Telki? Did you leave any of the pretty men for the rest of us?” Nala looked particularly perturbed.

“In my defense, he picked me first.” Telki had a respectable pile of empty skewers before her.

“I’m pretty!” Sam protested with a pout.

“Yeah, but we can’t keep you. Kinda the nature of the beast, being devoted to Sanguine.” Nala looked slightly wistful, “Otherwise,  you’d be a keeper.”

Sam paused, glancing up at Merc’s expression, which looked very conflicted and pained, like a puppy that didn’t know why it’d been kicked, then back down at the Khajiit. “Hun, you may be very, very pretty, but— _hic!_ — _don’t_ say things that upset my Muffin,” his voice dropped an octave.

Sitting upright from her relaxed slouch against the table, Nala managed, “I wouldn’t…wait, your Muffin? Now I’m truly confused.”

“Yes. My Muffin. Who I am quite fond of. Mine. I will spank you, and you will not enjoy it, if you ever make him make that face again,” Sam promised, no trace of his earlier drunken slur about him. His eyes flashed red and shadows gathered around him.

Nala looked like she’d been slapped with a talking fish, and Wemie was studying Sam with renewed interest. “Sam, I truly meant no offense,” Nala assured him hastily, “I am sorry I caused your Muffin distress.”

“Why are you talking to me?” Sam sniffed, “He’s right here,” he pointed upwards.

Nala’s gaze turned to Mercutio. “I am sorry, truly.”

“I…it’s okay.” Mercutio rubbed the back of his neck, a bit surprised at Sam’s reaction himself. “There’s a lot going on you had no chance of knowing, and you didn’t say anything that isn’t a common opinion. Thank you for apologizing, though.” Mercutio found a place to sit with enough room for both of them next to Telki, who leaned over to kiss him and smooth his hair down.

“I never see you with your hair mussed outside the bedroom. It’s a little disconcerting.”

“So is hearing four Telkis eating honey nut treats. What even?”

“Mercutio, meet my sisters; Wemie, Nala, and Ama.” Telki introduced each one in turn, and each one giving him a nod at their name. “Surprise?”

Mercutio laid his head on the table. “It’s a mead dream, isn’t it? Sam? What was that stuff the Wild Elves gave us?”

“They call it starshine,” he said, clapping the other man on the back. “And they gave you the light stuff.”

“Here, Sam, hold your nose, I’m giving Merc a dose of Sober Mead.” Telki reached for the jug behind her on the shelf, not quite reaching it. Gideon, chuckling, got it for her. “Thank you, Love. Here you go, Merc, it’ll make you feel better."

“So, you know alchemy now?” Wemie looked skeptical. “Don’t think for a moment I forgot what happened to the hounds that time.”

“I was five!” Telki cried.

“You turned my dogs green, and they sounded like a pack of hyenas for a week!”

“I approve,” Rommy said solemnly. “I’ll go find some dogs.”

Telki groaned and laid her head on the table. “Rommy, I love you, but that’s not helping.” Three hands rubbed her back in soothing circles. Sometimes, multi-hubbies was a blessing.

“I’ll be helpful by making sure the second batch doesn’t burn then,” he replied, lifting an eyebrow. “And by reminding you all that it’s late, and the little ears are still awake and alert.”

“Hmmm, yes. Bedtime. All little magpies need to trundle off to brush teeth and bed. Now. Hup hup hup!” Again, three jaws hit the floor as the entire troop of six children obediently gave the adults good night hugs and kisses, and then left to brush teeth and ready themselves for bed.

Sam wound himself around Merc to watch the carefully controlled chaos, enjoying the expressions on Telki’s sisters’ faces. “I think we— _hic!—_ slept through somethin’ interestin’, Muffin.”

“Who are you, and what did you do with our sister?” Nala only seemed to be half joking.

“I grew up?” Telki offered. “Though I’m wondering where I’m going to put you three. Wasn’t really expecting sleepover company.”

“They can sleep with Muffin and me!” Sam offered instantly.

Telki cut her eyes at Sam. “Look at Wemie and say that again.” Wemie was currently sharpening her sword, now that the kitchen had cleared enough she could. The smile she gave Sam was almost as sharp as her blade.

Considering her a moment, Sam looked back to Telki. “Shell stabbed me. I still want to sleep with her. Why should your floofy sister be less— _hic!_ —appealing?”

“Because she castrated the last man that got fresh with her?” Nala offered, completely unperturbed by the gruesome image suddenly center stage of every male mind present.

“Ah. That’s…a good reason,” Sam admitted. At least Shell had only stabbed him. With poison.

“Telki,” Rommy called quietly, waving for her to come into the kitchen.

“Erandur, Love. Lemme up.” Telki patted the arm holding her in his lap, which only tightened around her in a hug.

“Cost you a kiss,” Erandur teased, kissing her lightly on the lips.

“That’s all? Toll’s getting cheap these days.” Telki wasn’t quite quick enough slipping off his lap, as a sound swatt caught her right on the backside, causing her to yelp. She wrinkled her nose at him and swung around the doorway into the kitchen, relieved that Rommy wasn’t indulging in his usual habit of having everything he needed floating about his head to save counter space. Nala would never let  _that_ go.

“Yes, dear?” Telki slung herself into Rommy’s arms, snugging him in a warm hug. She had no qualms about stealing body heat. It may be the middle of spring, but it was still cold.

“Do you want me to outfit the rooms in the cliff?” he asked, holding her close and drawing her toward the oven, where the air was a bit warmer. “Some of them only lack a good cleaning and furniture…and, you know, light and air.” He shrugged. “They’d be fine for a night or two anyway.”

“Mmm, are you angling for favoritest fiance?” Telki grinned up at him. “Yes, please, and thank you. That sounds just about perfect.”

It was the best option, he thought. None of them had missed how tense Telki had become under her sisters’ interrogation—and it  _had_ been an interrogation. They were having trouble coping with the complete shattering of the image of the life they’d believed their sister lead, and it very well could turn to resentment if they didn’t get some space to work out their thoughts. The cliff rooms, not yet connected to the house by walkway, could give them all some much needed distance to settle their feelings. He closed his eyes, removing all the leftover dust and debris from the rooms, conjuring beds and a pair of wardrobes, as well as a single medium table and four chairs. “I’ll leave the softer touches to you,” he said, opening his eyes to look into hers. “You know what they’d like better than I would.”

“It’s been awhile since I really got to spend any time with them, but yeah, I think I do.” Telki mentally started running through her linen stores. “Really, for tonight, I only have to worry about getting enough covers they don’t freeze.” Telki sighed, “This is the part where I have to quit hugging you, isn’t it?”

“Unless you want me to carry you to the linen stores,” he grinned down at her.

“Oh! Yes, please, and thank you!” Telki brightened. “I like this idea, very much.” 

Swinging her up into his arms, he winked at her. “I make no guarantee about what happens to the linen when we get there.”

Telki giggled against his chest. “No, but I have a pretty good guess. Keep a cleansing spell on hand, won’t you?”

.

* * *

.

Rommy was fairly good about having the baked portion of breakfast on the table long before anyone was ready to roll out of bed. Not needing to sleep anymore sort of took the fun out of lounging in bed, really, so he mostly baked all night when he wasn’t in the Isles, sometimes cleaned a bit or fixed something small before it became something big. Still, it created the illusion to the unknowing that he was a very early riser. He had a feeling this surprised Wemie when she walked in the next morning.

“Someone beat me awake? Where on Nirn did Telki find you?” Wemie had long been the dawn greeter in the family. Amazing the baby sister that would sleep ‘til noon if left to it snagged one for herself to keep.

“Dawnstar,” he replied, pulling a kettle off the hearth and holding it up. “Tea?”

“Please.” Wemie smiled, “I may have to visit Dawnstar, considering what Telki found there.” She inhaled deeply as he poured for her. “That smells divine.”

“They make really good tea mixes around the Blackwood area of Cyrodiil,” he informed her, adding a bit of cream and sugar without asking, simply reading it right off her automatically. “They won’t tell anyone what their ingredients are, either. Personally, I think it’s something they trade the Argonians for, but you’ll never get an Argonian to turn on a merchant or crafting clan that they actually like,” he smiled, handing her the teacup and saucer. He was feeling a bit nostalgic and had brought a proper porcelain set from the Isles.

“True enough.” Wemie sipped her tea, eyebrows rising in appreciation. “Perfection. I’m tempted to ask if there’s any more like you back in Dawnstar for the tea alone.”

He laughed, moving a plate of scones and clotted cream over near her. “I was just passing through. We all got stuck by a blizzard in the inn.”

“So that’s how she got through your defenses,” Wemie guessed. “You strike me as a very guarded person. Your wit and repartee are likely as thick as my shield.”

Pausing, he examined her quietly for a moment. “Interesting that you’d think so,” was all he said, rising.

“Damn. I’m not nearly as clever with words or as careful with feelings as the others. I’m a swordswoman. I like plain talk, but I also got whammied with the family curse. You might know a bit about it since Telki got the biggest helping.”

“Curse? I don’t think Telki sees it like that,” he remonstrated, moving around the table with a pile of plates. Serviceable heavy pottery this time; the children were wonderful, but they weren’t careful.

Wemie snorted. “She wouldn’t.” She watched Rommy a long moment, taking in his posture, the way his hands moved and how he placed the cutlery. “Impressive. Did Telki manage to marry into Nobility? That will make the Clan back home hoot and holler.”

“What?” he asked, startled.

Wemie started ticking things off finger by finger. “Accent. Manners. You move like a nobleman. More than that, one taught to fight, so maybe not just nobility, but knighted nobility, and that’s damned impressive.”

He stared at her for a moment, then grinned, relaxing slightly. He didn’t think Telki would mind letting them believe that, since it was practically what they’d let Ulfric believe before a slip of the tongue had the Nord figuring things out for himself. And then, of course, Rommy had turned him into cheese. “Back at’cha,” he said, deliberately borrowing a phrase from Blaise.

“And good with kids. Really, how did you last single long enough for Telki to catch you?”

For a very long moment, he simply examined her thoughtfully, eyes not leaving her face. Finally, he turned, arranging cups. “I’m a widower.”

“Ouch. Sorry.” As good as her tea was, Wemie found she couldn’t finish it. Guilt would do that. “I told you, I’m not very good with words or feelings. Can I help set the table or something? Else I’ll sit here and wallow.”

“Well, if you want on the entire household’s good side, you could make the bacon. One thing I was never able to cook—I always manage to burn it or leave it half raw, for some reason,” he admitted.

“Does she still cook it with sage like Father did?” Wemie wasted no time making her way to the cold storage and the rashers of bacon there. “Am I cooking all of this? Gideon alone looks like he could eat an entire side of bacon with no help.”

“Oh, before he’s even had his second cup of coffee,” Rommy confirmed, cheerful again.

“We’re gonna need more bacon. And eggs. She still cooks eggs in the bacon grease, right?”

“Yes sage, yes grease, no to more bacon, just look in the other pantry. I think she made it all cold storage at some point. Or she just ran out of insulation for the walls. Whichever.”

Wemie opened the pantry door, only to have a tiny frost atronach wave at her. “Rommy, what have we gotten ourselves into?”

“Newest annex of the Shivering Isles,” he replied with a wide grin.

Wemie shivered, “There’s entirely too much truth in your words, and not enough irony for my peace of mind.”

“Don’t worry about it; worry will drive you insane, eventually,” he warned her lightly. He was still trying to caution Erandur about that, he didn’t need to add Wemie. “Any place with this many children is bound to be a little on the madhouse side, then you throw in mages to pretty much anything and it gets even madder, and then a man dedicated to Shor, and then a dragon stuffed into a tiny, hyperactive body. Shivering Isles annex.”

“The Dragonborn thing is still a bit much to believe. Paladins of Shor I’ve met before. All the rest, I’d say was usually above my pay grade.” Wemie roughly coated and rubbed the bacon with sage, before slapping them into the pan, and jumped back a little when a tiny flame atronach fired up the range. “Definitely outside my comfort zone. Who ever heard of household atronachs? Really?”

“You get used to them. Personally, I think they’re cute. So, I can understand not wanting to deal with mages, but why are children above your paygrade?”

“The whole plain speaking and not good with feelings,” Wemie grumbled. “Give me bandits to fight, or a caravan to guard, and I’m good. A skinned knee and tear-filled eyes? Just no.”

“You looked after your sisters, though, right? Or is that what put you off it?”

Before she could formulate a response, Gideon shuffled into the doorway, and stood there. “That’s not Telki.”

“Nope,” Rommy chuckled at the confusion in the Nord’s sleepy eyes and handed him a large cup of coffee. “Her sisters showed up yesterday, remember?”

“I smelled bacon, but there’s not enough stripes cooking it,” Gideon mumbled into his coffee mug. He groggily sat down at the table and waited for his brain to catch up with his nose.

Snickering, Rommy buttered a roll and placed it in his hand. “Eat something, Treenord.” Gideon mumbled a half response and started disappearing the roll without noticing what he was eating.

“Gideon! Post for you! Oh, hello?” Lydia regarded Wemie with cautious curiosity as the Khajiit studied her much the same way. Lydia only really got into Whiterun to visit her siblings when the others were home; to come back and find visitors was a little unsettling. Not quite as unsettling as them showing up with a pair of Daedric Princes, but unsettling enough.

“Lydia, Wemie. Wemie, Lydia,” Rommy said, walking over and handing Lydia a cup.

Wemie had to smile at Rommy. “And I thought I was bad with words. I’m Telki’s sister. She has two more floating around here. We arrived yesterday. What’s your connection to this madness?”

Half of Lydia’s tea wound up on the floor. She cast Rommy a quick, panicky glance to see how much of anything she could safely say. He merely raised an eyebrow at her, giving her a slight shake of the head.

“I’m her housecarl, and part of her family circle?” Lydia grimaced. “It’s a bit more complicated than that. We share a husband.”

Wemie’s eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into her hairline. “That’s more than I was expecting. I guess Telki really has grown since leaving Cyrodiil.”

Their talk faded into the background for Gideon. The minute the letter Lydia handed him landed in his hand, he was lost in Shell’s latest adventures, utterly ignoring everyone and everything.

 _“Dear Gideon,”_ it started, the first time she had used his name, rather than “My dearest yahoo,” or occasionally, “Treenord.” It worried him.

“ _You know what people think is security? Having the main entrance be on the second floor of a building with a trapped stair that has to be lowered. You know what’s really easy for a Bosmer to get into? A second story._  
  
 _Chillrend is pretty and I’m keeping it. I have no idea what your legends on it are, but it’s mine now, and I am keeping it very shiny. Oh, and tell Telki and Tyr I met someone else with purple eyes. She’s very pretty, but I think she’s still grieving her old lover._  
  
 _I’m going to be doing something very dangerous tomorrow. I wish I had time to see you again before we do this, but we don’t have that luxury. If I don’t write in the next month, assume I won’t._

 _Sorry,_ mellani,  _but I think this is something I have to do.”_

Gideon felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. “Romulus. Romulus, is there any way you can keep an eye on Shell? I think she is about to need it, badly.”

“I told you, Gideon; if I could I would already be doing it. It would be different if she were my bloodkin, but she’s only kin by marriage,” he said, looking worriedly over to the Nord. “What happened?”

“Take a look.” Gideon handed him the letter.

Rommy read it, cursing, then ran a hand through his hair, thinking. “I can do a kin-finding spell if I can get Fey to agree, but honestly, Gideon, if this was sent by courier, whatever she was doing happened days ago. She could already have…”

“I know.” Gideon let out a long drawn out sigh. “That’s what worries me most.”

Swallowing the dryness in his throat, he shoved back the chair he had dropped into and headed for the stair. “Mara has a keen interest in you both; she’d at least be willing to tell Erandur if Shell were dead.”

“She’s not the only interested party.” Gideon was rubbing a hand over his face. “Sam. He put that mark on her. Would he help?”

“If he’s not blackout drunk somewhere? Maybe,” Rommy huffed, then summoned a single butterfly, whispering something to it before it vanished in a little explosion of light. “There, but I’m not waiting around to see if he shows up.”

Wemie watched them both arms folded and foot tapping. The mannerisms were strikingly reminiscent of Telki. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“Not now,” Rommy said firmly, rising to head up the stairs. “Give us a minute to find out if someone is alive or dead.” Reaching the door to Telki’s room, he knocked, then waited a beat.

“Come on in, if you have no problem with nekkid.” The voice was still slurry asleep. “And if you’re Sam, remember you’ll still have to deal with Rommy.”

Rommy walked right in with no further invitation. “Erandur, wake up,” he said urgently. The Dunmer rolled over and rubbed his eyes.

“What’s happened?” He figured it had to be serious, if Rommy was willing to walk in on a naked cuddle pile involving Telki.

“Would Mara tell you if Shell were dead?”

Erandur had to sit and think a moment. “I believe She would. Give me a moment to ask.” Erandur bowed his head, and the familiar sparkles danced about his head. “She is safe. It was a near thing, if I understand correctly, but she is safe and well for now.” Erandur nodded, and then oozed back down in the bed, where a Telkipus wrapped around him.

“Thank you,” Rommy said, turning right back around as Gideon finally made it up. “She’s alive,” he told him. Gideon practically melted against the doorway in relief.

The familiar sound of steel being drawn cut through anything else they might have said, followed quickly by Lydia’s shouted warning. “To arms!” Suddenly, all three peacefully sleeping figures bolted upright, one already casting to summon armor and arm them. Rommy simply raced out into the main hall, reaching out and pulling a man out of shadow, tossing him to the ground. The assassin rolled, kicking out at his legs, but there was a rune waiting on the floor for him, despite Rommy not visibly casting. The man shrieked and jerked as the lightning rune jumbled all his nerves.

An arrow quickly silenced him, coming straight over Rommy’s shoulder and burying itself in his throat. The Daedra looked around and abruptly tossed his arms wide, banishing every shadow, revealing several more dark figures, frantically trying to shield their eyes.

“Oh boy, playtime.” Wemie knocked her sword against her shield, a purely feral grin spread wide across her face. This she knew; this she could do. “Come and get it.”

Apparently, these particular goons were smart enough to try team tactics. Wemie found herself flanked by two assassins seemingly made out of water, the way they flowed around her, avoiding her sword. Ducking suddenly in a move she and Ama had created to help her against roguish types, she swept her sword towards the first man’s legs, then shield-bashed him as he leapt away from her blade. The second assassin hastily moved out of the path of his airborne friend, and Wemie darted in, catching him on the leg and laming him. Fire bloomed in his hand briefly before she ran him through. She’d been fighting too long to leave a spellcaster alive. Letting him fall, she spun around looking for her next target.

Gideon also had his hands full. He found himself surrounded by three shrouded figures, two with daggers and the third with a weighted chain, each keeping a careful distance in a circle around him, turning as he did. The clink of metal as the chain wielder got behind him was all the warning he needed to duck under the throw, the loop that was suppose to go around his neck crashing harmlessly onto the floor ahead of him. He called his hammer to him even as he  _fus’_ d the one in front of him through a wall. Two down, as the approaching hammer knocked the second assassin to the floor. Catching the hammer, he used its momentum to bring a final strike on the back of the man’s head, ensuring he didn’t rise again. The third made to run, only to find Lydia’s sword descending.

Blue arcing light, the sound of sizzling, and the pained screams of another intruder heralded Mercutio’s addition to the fray. It was quickly followed by the familiar whoosh of Erandur’s favorite fire spell. The screams stopped, and both men, looking like Divine wrath made flesh, filled the doorway. The assassins, if any survived, would rue the day they attacked their children’s home.

Rommy had moved over to the door to the children’s rooms, ascertained there was no one inside but the rapidly waking children, then sealed them all inside with a protective shield. The assassin that rushed him from behind skidded passed as he stepped aside, inside out.

“Hey, who ordered a morning scuffle and didn’t invite me?” Ama oozed around the man that just tried to backstab her, flipping his arm behind him in a painful grasp, her own fluidity making his look crass and sloppy.

Out in the yard two shadowy figures broke cover to flee. A wall of fire bloomed around them, followed quickly by two rosey fireballs, leaving ash to wisp away on the morning breeze. Nala yawned loud enough to crack her jaw, her arms flopping loosely at her side from casting. That was a rather rude way to wake up.

Seeing this, the last of the assassins retreated, scrambling to get into the treeline. Three rapid shots, three bodies thudded to the ground. Telki’s bow vibrated with the recoil, her mouth drawn in a firm line, and a cloud of anger practically palpable around her.  **“** ** _HOW DARE THEY ATTACK MY HOME!_  ** **”** The house shook slightly with her words. Her sisters exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“I wish I could say they learned from this,” Rommy glanced about, eyes gleaming darkly in anger.

Mercutio cast a Detect Life spell. “Doesn’t seem to be anyone else here that isn’t supposed to be.”

“Let’s see if they were stupid enough to bring the contract with them,” Telki sighed. Either the contract holder had been incinerated, or they were a good bit smarter than the former Brotherhood, for none of the assassins had anything at all to indicate who hired them. The only strange thing was that they all seemed to be fully human—not what one might expect from a force targeting a family that had taken out a Thalmor estate two bare months before.

“There’s not even a half decent mage among them. What were they  _thinking?”_ Telki was well and truly confused. There was nothing to tie them all to any one thing. There was no way to trace who sent them, but they were incredibly ill prepared for the job given them. “Even the Dark Brotherhood had more sense than this.”

“The  _Dark Brotherhood_ was after you?” Wemie squeaked. Telki waved the question off for later.

“This stinks of fear.” Gideon looked them over. “Rushed, ill prepared. We scared someone somewhere to their bones.”

“But who?” Erandur was rubbing his chin in thought. One could almost see him turning possibilities over in his mind.

Rommy’s face was absolutely expressionless as he looked them over. “I might know who to ask, though I can’t say if anything will come of it.” He looked up and caught Telki’s eyes. “Care to come? I think he actually likes you better than me.”

“Now, I’m intrigued. Of course I’ll come. Butterfly?” Telki bounced on her toes and batted long lashes at Rommy, who pulled her to him and promptly dissolved them into his usual swarm of butterflies, surging out the door and moving away as a sinuous cloud into the dismal sky.

“Did you see what I saw?” Ama’s jaw was dragging the ground.

“Yeeeah I did. Sis has even more ‘splainin’ to do.” Wemie folded her arms across her chest, and narrowed her eyes as she started fitting puzzle pieces into place. She did not care at all for the picture they were forming.

Merc looked around. “Where’s Blaise, he’s usually pouting about…oh. I’ll be right back.” He remembered what Rommy did the last bandit scare they had. Ten to one, the kids were bubbled in their rooms.

Nala followed Mercutio, eyes thoughtful. “Would you be willing to teach me some of these spells?”

“Frankly? I’m still learning myself.” Sure enough, there was Romulus’ signature ward across the kid’s rooms. And a steaming pile of viscera and bones on the floor: Merc swiftly incinerated that before they saw it. With precision care, he dismantled the ward, soon releasing a horde of curious, questioning kids.

“What happened?”

“Why’d Pappa Rommy bubble us this time?”

“What was that noise?”

“Is everyone okay?”

The questions tumbled quickly over each other, one child piping in before another could finish asking. Only long practice kept Mercutio from drowning in their curiosity. Nala simply sat back and watched, Mercutio’s patience leaving her gooey eyed and melted.

“Still my Muffin,” a voice purred in her ear, making her jump.

“Why are all the good ones always taken? Honestly, is one cute guy that’s good with kids really too much to ask?” Nala huffed. “He’s even good with magic too!”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, then shut it, an interested look on his face. “Is that what you’re looking for, then?” he asked, mischievous wheels turning already. Oh. Oh, this could be fun.

“A life long partner,” Nala waved a finger under Sam’s nose. “But yes, it’d be nice to find a cute guy good with kids and magic that would be interested in sharing his life with me.”

“If I help you find him, can I watch?” Sam asked, as if he were asking how the weather was. His eyes gleamed dull red as they bore into hers.

Nala regarded Sam long and hard, then huffed. “You know what? Sure. Why not? You find me a guy like that who sticks with me, you can scry once.” How likely was that to happen?

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, and he slowly held out a hand. “Do I have your word on that?”

Nala hesitated a moment, suddenly feeling unsure about this. “Well, there is one lump in the mix: how do I know you won’t keep throwing guys my way, claiming they’re the one just to claim multiple scry rights?”

“Fine. Your wedding night. You get him to the altar, I get to scry. Good deal?” he asked, eyes shining. Oh, that would make Mara  _very_ annoyed.

“Third night of the honeymoon, unless you just like the awkward firsts better.”

“Third time—I don't want to scry the whole night to find out you’d rather play cards that day.”

Nala gave Sam a wry expression. “Honey, it’s been a long dry spell. Trust me, there’ll be plenty to see that whole first week, at least. He still may not be walking right by the second week.”

Sanguine gave her a slow wink, “If you care to practice a little, I won’t— _hic!_ —tell anyone,” he offered. “I don’t need to kiss and tell.”

Nala gave him a very humorless laugh. “Eh, I’m…not really built for casual sex. Emotions get too wrapped up too quick. Plus, it looks like you have enough emotions on your plate where your Muffin’s concerned. Don’t think for a second I forgot that whole threat thing."

“Did I at least threaten sexily?”

“Scarily,” she shuddered, “Very very scarily. I’ve never been scared of a sanguinist before. It was a novel experience.”

“I can give you all the novel experiences you can handle!” he promised, then glanced around as Gideon walked in. “And there’s the man I was looking for. Kind of. Rommy said you wanted to— _hic!_ —talk? Finally going to let me investigate that happy trail?”

Nala excused herself hastily, feeling as if she were shaking off a daydream. If Gideon needed to talk, she wasn’t going to eavesdrop. Her face flamed to think of anyone listening in on the talk she just had! She wasn’t quite sure what had possessed her, but nothing was likely to come of it, at any rate. Mercutio could probably use help with the children. She’d go make herself useful. Sam admired the curve of her tail on the way out, smirking slightly.

“Can you take me to Shell? Or check on her, at least? I finally got a letter. A very worrisome letter.” Gideon handed it over, pulling it from out of his tunic.

“Words are blurry but I’ll take your— _hic!—_ stricken expression for it,” Sam said. “I can check, sure.” There was a pause, then he got a puzzled expression on his face. “Huh.”

“Sam? What’s wrong?” Gideon was vibrating in place from sheer worry.

Abruptly, the Breton scowled, sitting down with a petulant expression. “She had it taken off! That…that…that gloriously curvaceous vixen!”

Gideon grinned with pride. “I’d be happier, but that just made it that much harder to keep up with her safety. I thought you had to remove it?” Sam only grumbled, sulking. Gideon sobered. “Sam, can you tell who removed it?”

Sitting back up, he looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe…have to go to the spot it last was.” With that, he was gone in a flash of blackness. Gideon could only wait, and worry.

 


	3. The Robb'd That Smiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon returns to Windhelm just in time for assassins to attack, then shows up at Telki's house for an Introvert's Nightmare.
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> Image provided by the indubitable talents of both Sir-Douglas-of-Fir and Evil_is_Relative  
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Stormcloaks were distressingly easy to move through. Talon literally wasn't trying, and still the majority of them jumped when they saw him—if they saw him. Eyes moved over where he walked without pause or start, as if they saw nothing there at all. He walked right up to the Palace of Kings and inside without a single challenge. How had no one assassinated this man yet?

He paused, examining the room. Ulfric was standing on the other side, talking to that bear-headed Second of his. It might, he admitted, be because of the man himself. Ulfric would be difficult to kill. He was a seasoned warrior, in armor, with Voice magic. It was also even odds that all the layers needed for this blasted climate would remove poison from blades before they even pierced the skin.

"Talon!" a small boy, of no discernable race besides some kind of human, was predictably the first to spot him. Predictably, because this was one of his former students. Once, the child had been remarkable simply for being completely unremarkable, two generations of work put into breeding someone that was so utterly ordinary they slipped right under the radar. Apparently his new father wanted to do away with that, because he now sported warpaint over half his face. In bright blue. What was the man thinking?

"Oh, By the Nine, when did you arrive?" Jorlief appeared at his elbow, helpful and friendly as always.

"A few moments ago," Talon replied, looking down at him. He forgot sometimes that the other races were so very short; he was part Breton and he still towered over most of them. Faloniril had been keeping him close to the manor for the last half decade, so it was taking a little longer than normal to get used to. He resisted the urge to stretch out the crick in his neck.

"Bjartr! Where'd you go, rascal? " Galmar was looking all about him for where his adopted son had gone.

"You've chosen a Name then?" Talon asked the boy, who had moved to Jorlief's elbow like he was imitating the man—which he probably was.

Bjartr grinned widely, no longer frightened of his old teacher, who still made many of the adults wary with his lack of expressions and silent movements. "Pa picked it out! Well, helped me pick it out. Nords have a lot of weird words."

"I noticed," Talon said dryly. "What does this one mean?"

"Bright!" he said, both proud and shy at the same time. A far cry from the child that requested he be killed mere months earlier for being a failure.

"It is fitting," Talon nodded solemnly, and Bjartr smiled, then raced back across the room so fast he skidded right past Ulfric and Galmar, catching himself on the armor of the latter.

Galmar only chuckled and patted his son's shoulder, continuing his talk with Ulfric until dismissed. Ulfric's eyes then turned to Talon, and a lone eyebrow rose in question.

"I have contacted all the families that were left to contact," he said without preamble. "Did they make it here?"

"They did. You missed quite the reunion party. A few have decided to remain here, some even within Windhelm's walls. If you wished, you could visit with them tomorrow. Min and Hyaril, in particular, have taken possession of Calixto's House of Curiosities."

Talon thought about that a moment, wondering if the two had given in and settled together yet. He somehow doubted it. They were probably still dancing around each other, bickering. "I shall pass, I think. Have many other Young Ones come in?" Some of them might just have gone to the other lords and offered to spy on the escapees; somehow, he didn't see them getting passed both Fey and Tyr. She was too observant and well-trained, and he had an odd way of knowing someone's motivations no matter how they tried to hide them.

He would be avoiding them as well.

"There have been a few, some openly, some not. Tyr and Fey have had the handling of them." Ulfric waved toward the wing with the couple's quarters. "It is early enough yet they are probably still in the family commons."

Talon nodded, his attention caught by something else. A slight sound, leather against stone, the the careful slide of a blade out of its sheath. He whirled without warning, hesitating only long enough to see it wasn't an idiot—well, one of Ulfric's idiots, anyway—before throwing his dagger, catching the would-be assassin through the hand. The man screamed—who had trained him, honestly—and dropped his own weapon.

Impressed, Ulfric stayed his guards from approaching as the man's screaming brought people running. It was clear as ice Talon had things well in hand. "If there is one, there's more. Search the grounds and castle. Make sure Tyr and his family are safe."

"You heard him! Spread out! Haldren! Ralof! With me!" Galmar marched towards the family wing to check on Tyr's family.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the Palace rocked with the  _thu'um._  Talon hit the assassin with a paralysis spell before whirling, rushing right passed them all before they set off whatever Fey had undoubtedly put on the door. She never had been able to sleep soundly without half a dozen runes around.

He wasn't wrong; a man in clothing similar to the first assassin's was dead on the ground, half covered in burns and half in frost.

"Serves the scum right." Galmar roughly kicked the body. "Is it safe to enter? At least one got in; too early for Tyr's usual antics."

Talon simply toed the door open. Nothing exploded, but Fey glanced over at them, wearing nothing but her husband's tunic, bare legs and arms splattered slightly with blood, and holding a Bound Sword with an expression colder than the Sea of Ghosts. Her hair was slightly mussed, eyes bright with fury, and standing over another dead assassin that, if his expression and his guts spilling on the floor was any indication, had thought her an easy target.

Another assassin was crumbled against a crater in the wall, Tyr kneeling next to him and going through his clothing, expression quiet and thoughtful. "Nothing here," he said, glancing over. "Oh, good morning Galmar. Talon, when did you get in?"

Galmar stared more than a little starstruck at Fey. What. An. Empress. He shook his head. "Tyr, Fey, where are the little ones? One of these bastards made a play for Ulfric. You can be damn sure they'd try for the little ones."

Fey paled, running right through all of them and down the hall, skidding to a halt and staring at the door. Talon's eyes narrowed: There was no rune on it. Silent, she reached out and turned the knob, swinging the door inward until it caught on something.

Without even entering the room, she turned and strode back to her and Tyr's bedroom. "Everyone out! I need my armor."

Tyr grabbed a tunic and pulled it on as he moved out. "Ralof, was Betsy still hanging round the stable?" he called as he moved.

Talon ignored him and moved back to the children's room, entering. The dead guard had been left just inside the door. He was already stiffening: they had gotten the children away first, before even attacking Ulfric. A small tub of water was overturned, and there were signs of slight struggle, but an unraveled scroll on the ground proved to have paralysis glyphs on it. The girls wouldn't have been able to fight back.

"It should be wearing off any moment," he said, handing it to Fey as she came up silently beside him.

"Good," she said shortly, tossing it aside and moving back out.

Outside, the noise of the city was drowned out in the unmistakable bugel of one irate Mammoth Matriarch, which was quickly picked up and echoed by at least three other very angry trunks. Galmar took a moment to pity whomever angered that much stomping power, then shrugged it off. Idiots should not have touched the True Emperor's children.

They made it to the edge of the courtyard before the area across the bridge over the White River lit with a burst of lightning, bright enough to be seen over the walls. "Get those damned doors open!" Tyr thundered at the guards there, who hastily complied.

Pearl, nightdress askew and shivering in her bare feet, was nonetheless surrounded by a lightning cloak, glaring balefully at the two men trying to get ahold of her again. One made the mistake of moving forward, only to be Shouted right off the bridge. Tyr pulled his tunic back off and tossed it to his stepdaughter, who gratefully pulled it around her. "Where are the others?" he asked.

Eyebrow raised, she pointed to where the mammoths were stampeding into the hills.

"Damn it to Daedra!" Galmar shouted down to the stables. "Arfod! Get those horses saddled now!"

"What horses? What wasn't stolen was turned out! Look for yourself!" Indeed, the stables were bare, and the doors standing wide with the snow churned to mud in the doorway. Galmar huffed under his breath and then gave a loud warbling whistle using his fingers. There was an answering neigh in the distance.

"Get them saddled as soon as they're back, or I'm using your guts for horse tack!"

Tyr had kept right on running, giving his own shrill whistle as he caught up with the mammoths. The oldest one paused, moving her massive head around so he could catch hold of her tusk, lifting her trunk to aid him onto her head. He examined their surroundings from his new height, seeing signs of passing before them, and to either side. He cursed, pulling his childhood pet to a halt as she trumpeted a bit in protest. She was angry and wanted to stomp something into a bloody mudwallow. He glanced speculatively at her daughters, then sighed. No way would they let the others ride them down the other trails to discover which were false. If only…

Galmar pulled up beside him, having not waited for tack at all, riding his horse bareback. "They split up? Can Betsy follow scent?"

"Common practice would be to have taken several items from the rooms," Talon said, materializing in the branches of a nearby tree. Tyr would give a lot to know how he did that. "The bedsheets were missing."

"Only chance we have," Tyr replied, leaning down to whisper in Betsy's ear. "Blossom and Orien."

There was some confusion as the mammoth moved from one trail to the other, getting more distressed as time went on. She finally stopped dead when one of the other trails split again, giving her yet another direction to follow.

"Dammit. Now what?" Galmar growled.

"It seems they were after the children all along," Fey said expressionlessly, coming down the trail to their right. She was holding a ripped bedsheet in her hands. "The children, and you, dearest," she added, gazing up at Tyr with agony hidden behind her cold eyes.

"Someone must have panicked," Talon said. "Those were from one of the mercenary assassin groups in Cyrodiil. They are very occasionally employed by the Legion. I've only seen them a few times before."

Galmar's ears pricked. "A few times?"

"Their training is not as extensive as the Blades they replaced," the Weapons Master said simply. "Mostly, such missions are given to the Pentius Oculatus, but that would require the Emperor's approval."

"So, leverage? Ransom? Make a Dragonborn Emperor in their own image? What did they mean to gain by this? That excuse they sent after Ulfric was a damned insult." Galmar's frustration caused his horse to fidget, and he soothed it back to stillness with a calming pat on the withers.

"Doesn't matter," Tyr said, voice hard. "It's not going to work." Turning back toward the sky, he Shouted. " _ **OD AH VIING!"**_

The dragon appeared within moments, hovering over them as the mammoths ran back down the hill. Betsy stayed put, apparently unbothered by dragons. She even pulled up some grass with her trunk. " _Pahlok._ I do not recall giving you licence to summon me, New Dovahkiin."

"Sorry, Big Red, but we have a problem, and I don't have wings," Tyr shrugged, barely concealed fury in his violet gaze. "My children have been taken."

"Ah," Odahviing said, glancing up and down the trails. " _Rinik pruzah._ I will see what I can see," he offered, wheeling around. He returned shortly. "The trails simply end," he said. "I know not where they have gone."

Fey sagged against Tyr, having climbed up while Odahviing searched. Now that there was nothing she could do, her energy seemed to abandon her. He reached around and grabbed her hand. "Would you do me a favor, Odahviing? Could you get Telki to bring Rommy here? He could find them, I know it."

"I am not a messenger, New Dovahkiin," he huffed. "But…it is about  _kiirre._  She would be upset if I refused you. Do not get any ideas. You are not  _Thuri,"_  he added, landing. "Now, what happened?"

"It would be faster if someone simply went with you," Talon said, tearing his eyes away from the pair. "If you would bear me, I will go."

Odahviing measured him visually for a moment as the elf returned the gaze with his normal unruffled calm. "Fine," the dragon huffed, flipping his wings back. "Do not fall off."

"Talon," Tyr called as the elf settled himself. He glanced up, meeting the man's violet gaze, keeping his eyes from straying downward to where his fingers clasped Fey's, "Thank you."

He had just enough time to nod acknowledgement before Odahviing took off.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Wemie, Nala, and Ama were enjoying the evening on the second story deck. It was one of the few places approaching private and peaceful on the property, and they were taking advantage of it to sort themselves out. Considering how tumbled and off center they all were, the peaceful evening was a much needed balm to bruised spirits. Just doing something as familiar and soothing as a family inventory helped, but the sunset streaked sky helped more.

"Y'know, I expected some sort of chaos, some surprises, I mean, we are talking about Telki, but this? Never in a million years." Ama leaned over the railing, taking in the view. Sunset on the lake was gorgeous. The water was a cool lavender, reflecting the tones of purple and blue from the sky above, streaked with wispy clouds of light pink. To the west the colors grew more vivid, but above them, soft tones ruled. The first, brightest stars were appearing, winking back at their own reflections.

"You don't know the half of it. The spells that get tossed around here on the casual? That is some  _serious_  spellcasting. Either they've all picked up some Aetherial patronage, or they've sold their souls to somebody." Nala pulled on the twist of hair she'd been twirling. "I don't know whether to drool over pretty new spells, or quake in my boots expecting Daedra to come collect."

"I think it safe to say Telki has surrounded herself with Champions." When both sisters' jaws dropped Wemie forestalled them with a raised hand and a firm voice. "Here me out!" Both girls subsided.

"Look at what she has taken on and accomplished. For Aedra's sake, she whupped the firstborn of Akatosh. Then, apparently, set about systematically thumbing her nose at every Daedric Prince that crossed her path. She's still breathing. More than that, she has a family she's cobbled together spanning all Nine Holds. As impressive as she is, there's no way she did that without help. Serious, god-inspired help. So, Champions. I mean, it would take a Champion of Sanguine to actually do feelings, right?"

"Paladin of Shor, Priest of Mara, Mercutio's unaffiliated as far as I can tell…who do you think Romulus belongs to?" Nala was tapping her lips lightly in thought.

"I dunno, the way Sam clings to his 'Muffin'…I wonder if Merc's been tagged by Dibella?" Ama stretched languidly and gave her sister a look, "But Champions?"

"Notice you squint and get headaches when you're around Rommy and Sam too much?" Wemie nodded when the twins whined in unison. "Her Sight's stronger. She has to know who and what they are. Shall we trust them?"

"Well, her life, her judgement call." Ama didn't take long to think about it at all. It was pretty clear to her, whomever they were affiliated with, they were taking care of business.

"I may not trust them just yet, but I will trust Telki." Nala did take time to ponder the predicament. "She's happy, healthy, surrounded by people that love her, who am I to throw a wrench in that?"

Wemie sighed deeply. "You're both right. So, I'll just have to shelve all my screaming reservations about this whole mess. It is her life, and she usually knows what she's doing, despite all evidence to the contrary."

"So, who saw Telki gathering an army of kids?" Nala grinned a little wistfully.

"I know, right?" Ama was laughing so hard, she nearly toppled off her bench.

"Actually, we should have seen it coming. Who was always bringing home strays?" Wemie allowed herself a fond smile. She'd been roped into helping bottle feed more than one wild orphan.

"Uh, Wemie, big difference between an orphaned chipmunk and an orphan  _orphan."_

"Yeah, the pull to save the kid would be stronger." Wemie's dry tone was enough to make Nala wince.

"Point."

The wind abruptly picked up with the appearance of a great shadow swooping over the house, the flapping of giant wings cutting through the quiet twilight. It was gone as soon as it came, the shadow sweeping around to circle over the lake. A cry rent the air, a roar unlike anything else, but unmistakable once heard.

"Did any of us see this coming?" Wemie's eyes followed the shape as far as she could.

"Nope." Ama and Nala were stunned. Hearing about dragons was nothing like actually seeing and hearing a dragon for oneself.

The dragon skimmed just over the surface of the lake, pulling up to settle on the road below the house, flipping his wings back and into place. " _Tu Mun!"_  he bellowed. "I have brought a visitor, and would like my second heifer."

Kids and adults had started piling into the yard the moment the dragon bugled. The sisters on the deck nearly fell over hearing him talk. There was no mistaking the gender with  _that_  voice!

"Right here, Mister Odahviing. Dad had me help collect her just the other day. None of the girls have even met her yet." Alesan, old enough to not instantly get attached to every new animal he met, led a young cow out by a lead.

" _Pruzah,"_  he snorted, tail twitching. He lowered his head, and Talon hopped off, caught between never wanting to do that again, and wanting to do it again immediately. The massive head swung toward him as he gathered his hair back, swiftly correcting the windswept look before the Dragonborn commented—Anu only knew what would come out of her mouth at any given point; he'd once overheard her and Min critiquing his rear end. " _Zun In,_  this is where I leave you," the dragon said, not even waiting for a reply before gathering his cow and heading off. He did not want to see Lucia's bottom lip get large again. It was oddly distressing.

"Oh. My. Wow. Ladies, do you see the deliciousness that just arrived? On the dragon. Still not used to that." Ama was practically hanging off the railing to get a better look. She wanted to coo over the curls, and her id positively growled over those shoulders, while the rest of her felt rather breathless at that thoughtless grace in every movement.

"I'm seeing, but not believing. I did not know Altmer came that fine. Holy Aetherius alive." Nala draped herself over Ama's back, both securing her sister from falling, and getting a closer peek at the new arrival. His hair was curly white-blonde, and long enough he wore it pulled back. He moved like a dancer, with a dancer's lithe build to match. Nala was entranced. She slid her gaze towards Wemie. It wasn't just her, then. Wemie was studying him with all the intensity she would battle plans.

Talon's gaze was luckily focused on those around him, including several loudly curious children. "Gideon," he said, nodding to the large Nord. "I see you had trouble recently," he added, noting the stress around the man's eyes. "It is not Shell, I hope."

"Shell is part of it, though she seems safe for now. I'm guessing there was trouble in Windhelm, if Odahviing deigned to bring you?" Gideon shifted his shoulders, bracing for the worst.

The Weapons Master nodded. "If we might speak inside?" he glanced around at all the young faces, so different from his students in both race and demeanor. Their curiosity was apparent in every line, every nuance of expression. They were well-fed, confident, and clearly well-cared for. He'd expected nothing else from the Dragonborn, really, though he suspected when these children had come here, they had looked and acted quite different. "Somewhere private?"

"There's a study atop the library tower. That's about as private as I can offer you." Gideon fixed the children with a paternal glare. "And isn't it time for some people to be washing up and setting the table for dinner?"

"Yessir!" arrived in chorus, and a stampede for the washroom happened, leaving Gideon and Talon in the sudden silence.

"Is Telki around?" the mer asked, his face calm and unruffled and not at all showing that he was mildly dreading what she'd do or say when she saw him. He did not dislike the Dragonborn, though he did find her exuberance somewhat exhausting.

"She went with Rommy looking for answers to the attack we had here." Gideon led Talon inside, guiding him towards the library stairwell. "They should be back soon, but we've no definite time to expect them."

Talon had paused, examining the room. "You had the same visitors we did, I see," he prowled around the scene, keen eyes taking in all the signs left. There had been two burn marks in the yard..."Twelve?"

Gideon pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was afraid that was why you were here. I'm guessing it must be bad if you're wanting the privacy of the study?"

"I am still learning everything considered appropriate to ordinary children's knowledge," Talon confessed. "I did not want to upset them."

"Well, that wouldn't necessarily be applicable to our brood, not with everything going on in our lives. They sent fifteen after us. We have no idea who sent them, there were no clues on their bodies, and with Telki's sisters here to help, there were no survivors. You may have noticed the audience camping on the roof deck? They dropped in for a surprise visit."

No trace of the shiver he felt go down his spine showed outwardly as he regarded Gideon. "I know who these attackers are, and, I think, why they have come."

Gideon nodded, and opened the study door for Talon. "I'm all ears."

Stepping inside and taking a moment to take everything in, the Altmer relaxed slightly. Gideon—despite his rather ill-advised attachment to Shell—was probably the easiest of Telki's husbands for him to deal with. He was a warrior, and with that came a certain straightforwardness that cut through all the social niceties others seemed to wish to engage in constantly. "They're Imperial," he told him.

Gideon blew out a long breath. "That's bad. Any way to know yet if they're crown backed, or someone getting antsy on Mede's behalf?"

"It may be too early to tell, but I believe they are at least Council backed," Talon said. "They were not well-trained enough to have been sent by the Emperor himself, unless they have lost a great number of people in the last few years. Their target was Tyr, and the children."

"Oh, they do not know the pain they have unleashed upon themselves," Gideon shuddered. He still had nightmares of Telki's Daedric-fueled meltdown.

"It is worse than you know," the former assassin said soberly. "They have taken the twins." Gideon cursed long, fluently, and inventively, and the elf nodded agreement. "This is the reason I believe them to be at least Council backed. They have heard we have Dragonborn heirs, and do not care to have adult ones with fully developed opinions of their own. They wish to create puppets for themselves, or perhaps even genuinely wish to have a Dragonborn Emperor again, but on their terms, not the Rebel King's."

"Do you know who Rommy is, exactly?" Gideon decided being delicate wasn't going to help Talon understand the predicament now facing them.

"The Seventh Champion of Cyrodiil, and Sheogorath," Talon replied without batting an eye. If he hadn't been able to figure that out by his youthful studying of the Oblivion Crisis, Lady Lili had certainly erased any misconceptions he might have had. She was exceedingly fond of Romulus, and seemed to find his elevation (or damnation) to Daedra adorable.

"Do you also understand precisely how protective he is of family? Or do you remember how Telki reacted when she learned what Faloniril used to anchor his bargain with the Ideal Masters? There is half a chance these idiots just started another Oblivion Crisis."

Gideon was privileged to see a sight few ever saw: Talon paled. "Ulfric has likely closed the borders, even if the passes were perfectly clear. Were I they, I would not chance them with two small children along. And a horker, apparently." He shook his head at that. "They will need to find a new way to get out of Skyrim. They may decide to go around through Morrowind or High Rock rather than doing as they think we would expect and going directly south."

"Sam? Are you listening? I could use that scary intelligence of yours about now." Gideon rubbed his head. "Sam, I'm serious, it's about the little ones. Please."

"The cute stabby one that is going to get far more interesting or the cute baby one that is going to have everyone wrapped around his finger?" Sam asked, appearing slouched over in the corner.

"They've both been kidnapped, Sam. How do we tell Rommy without starting another Crisis?"

Ignoring him, Sam blew Talon a kiss, enjoying the Altmer's nearly imperceptible shudder. "Figured me out yet?"

"It was remarkably easy, Sanguine."

"Well, I don't try," Sam admitted. "How did they get out of the— _hic!—_ city without being found out?"

"They didn't. Tyr and the mammoth herd chased them until their trails vanished," Talon told him, turning to face the Daedra curiously.

"Just poof?" Sam asked, and when Talon nodded, chuckled. "Old Ulfric is going to be so mad. They were holed up nearby the entire time. Probably close enough to— _hic!—_ watch. As soon as you all went back in the city, they moved out."

Talon cursed in a rare show of temper, glancing down as he worked this in with what he already knew. "They kept their mages in reserve as an avenue of escape. This was as much information gathering as an attempt."

"Probably," Sam agreed. "Aren't I smart? Don't you just want to—"

"No," Talon interrupted, waving him off before he could even get started.

"So, was the attack on us just, what? A distraction? Keep us tied up and out of the kidnap attempt?" Gideon sat back as the implication at that much sheer desperation washed over him. "Are we sure they're not already under Rom's aegis?"

"They were too predictable to be mad," Talon scoffed lightly. "Likely, they had orders to take out both Dragonborn if they could. They could not know Telki would regard the throne as most would a viper."

Gideon laughed. "She does. Now, there's really no telling how long it will take them to get back, are you going to be difficult when I offer you food and bed?"

"I would appreciate both," Talon said honestly, then gave a slight, wan smile. "I only just got back to Windhelm when the attack happened, and I am finding in Skyrim's cold that I am not as young as I used to be."

"You can sleep with— _hic!—_ me!" Sam offered.

"I am not  _that_ cold," the mer said firmly.

"You will have your own bed, without any bedmates." Gideon eyed Sam sternly as he said this. "I believe by now, Lydia and Erandur will have supper on the table. Shall we adjourn to our meal?" Talon simply nodded, the font of words apparently dried for the moment.

The meal was ready when they made it down the stairs. Three places were set and empty at the adults' table, while the kids waited and talked animatedly at their adjoining table.

Gideon, while he could be quiet, never bothered at home, his heavy tread turning eyes as he entered the room. Ama, Nala, and Wemie got their first good look at Talon as he followed the wider man down the stairs.

"Oh, please tell me he's not taken, too." Apparently, the speaking without thinking was an inherited trait. Ama seemed unaware she'd even said anything.

"Ah, Ama, that was out loud." The ' _eep'_ that followed made Gideon smile. "Talon, allow me to introduce Telki's sisters. That is Wemie with the severe expression, the one in mage robes is Nala, and the outspoken one is Ama. Ladies, this is Weapons Master Talon; Talon, Telki's visiting sisters."

Talon paused, resigned himself to dealing with four Telkis from that moment forward, and descended the rest of the way down the stairs. He was starting to wonder if he should head back to Windhelm that night, after all. He nodded politely. "How do you do?" That was noncommittal enough.

Wemie visibly winced. "Oh don't do that. You just set a pair of bloodhounds on the scent." She nodded at her sisters whose eyes had narrowed in on him. It took no imagination to visualize them rubbing hands like cheap villains in a children's play.

Talon repressed a shudder and examined them calmly. With any luck this was a short visit, and he could return to having just Telki (and Min, Hyaril and, to some extent, Shell) to try his patience. The last thing he wanted was for anyone else to regard him as a puzzle cube that must be solved. He simply sat where Gideon indicated and pretended he didn't notice the stares, but nearly smiled when he realized that the man had placed him with a clear exit, where no one could sneak up behind him.

He could certainly get to like Gideon.

Erandur stood up from his seat, joining hands with Gideon and Mercutio. All the children joined hands at their table. Bright sparkles danced about Erandur's head. "Blessed Mara, mother goddess, we thank you for this meal together with the family you have given us. Let it nourish our bodies as your love nourishes our hearts, and continue to spread your love throughout our days. Amen." At that, they all sat back down, the meal starting in earnest as people called for passing of this or that, someone realized they didn't have a fork, and napkins were mixed up.

Mercutio shifted in his seat. The quiet at the table was getting awkward, especially given all the curious looks coming from the other end of the table. Khajiit curiosity should be considered a lethal weapon. "So, Talon, what can you share about what's been happening?"

"Much has been happening," he replied, cutting his food neatly, "You shall have to be more specific."

"You said you'd just returned to Windhelm, can you share what you were doing that had you away?" Gideon asked, digging into his own supper. Bless Lydia, she'd put extra potatoes and pot roast on his plate. Maybe he was finally forgiven.

"Most of the former Young Ones have been returned to their families," he reported, sounding more as if he were talking about the weather rather than reuniting kidnapped children to parents that had likely thought them dead. "I had a difficult time tracking some of them, but Imperials, if nothing else, love lists." In other words, he'd broken into a census bureau. It had been a rather boring couple of days, other than convincing the clerk the place was haunted.

"Most of them? That's marvelous news! You are quite a remarkable person, Talon. What of the rest of them, though?" Erandur looked faintly worried, but that was almost standard operating procedure for him. Gideon shook his head at him.

"I do my job," Talon waved off the praise. "Those left had no families to return to. They were killed in the battles they were taken from, or they were bred into the program. I was informed that Fey and Tyr had found homes for them. I did not have occasion to visit." He paused, then glanced slightly at Gideon. "As to those who are no longer children anymore…Shell asked to take on their cases."

Gideon leaned back, a wide smile of proud joy in Shell breaking through like sunshine after a squall. "She has? You've seen her lately? Her last letter had us worried." A trio of heartfelt sighs from the end of the table shook Gideon out of it with a blush that reached his ears.

"A few weeks ago," Talon confirmed, taking this in with amusement. "She spent most of the time complaining that she wished to grow out the shaved parts of her head, but would have to cut the rest of her hair to match." He didn't mention that she'd wondered off and on the entire time whether Gideon would like her with short hair.

"She wants to change her hair? I wonder what sparked that off?" Erandur gave Gideon one of those looks. Gideon could only shake his head.

"I don't know; it was probably for some job or another." Gideon wondered, though; she hadn't changed herself before.

"This country is cold," Talon supplied bluntly. So was the Altmer concept of a horrible afterlife, but he wouldn't mention that, either. Hope bloomed bright across Gideon's face, and that sunshine smile was back. So were the deep sighs from the end of the table.

"I'll make her a hat!" It was half offer, half adamant command, and coming from the kids table, reminding the adults that more ears than theirs were listening in to the conversation. Gideon turned to see Sofie with the most stubborn look he'd ever seen on her face.

"And I'm sure she'd love it, Sofie." Sofie turned happily back to her own meal and conversation with this reassurance. Gideon turned back around to the table to see entirely too many knowing smiles. He felt as if his ears were about to burn right off his head.

"Sooo, who wants to fill the new people in on Young Ones, Shell, and why Gideon's about to go up in flames?" Nala asked from her end of the table.

"Young Ones were kids the Thalmor were trying to use to take over Tamriel. Momma Telki and the Pappas stopped them, though. Now Uncle Talon's helping them all find homes. Shell's Dad's friend, but we've not met her yet." Blaise then stuffed half a roll in his mouth, his duty done. Three pairs of starry eyes fixated on Talon, who was suddenly very interested in how the butter was melting on his roll.

"She has great tits!" Sam crowed. His dinner seemed to be comprised entirely of wine.

"Sam, children present." Mercutio nudged him with an elbow.

"I didn't know she kept birds, will she bring them with her?" Sofie was bouncing in her seat. Alesan and Lucia both looked a little horrorstruck. Blaise was choking on his roll. Francois was looking at them all, very confused.

Sam pounded Blaise on the back. "You can't choke to death, I— _hic!—_ like you." The roll finally cleared Blaise's throat and he sat back with a hearty sigh and a thank you for his favorite uncle.

"Y'know. I always thought the craziest bunch of people I'd ever meet were the family back home," Nala sounded pensive. "I can't say that's so anymore, and I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Blessed," Talon couldn't help himself. She had a place to go to get away from this madness—he was fairly sure he'd been "adopted." Jaws dropped in pleasant surprise all around him. Erandur looked positively paternal.

Nala sat up as if struck, regarding Talon. "Yes, guess I am, and by the same token, so are you." She waggled a finger at Talon for added emphasis. He was unsure how to respond to that, so he didn't, simply pondering her words for a moment before setting his silverware down, his plate completely clean.

"Talon, would you like more? There's plenty pot roast left." Lydia had really let her mother hen run wild since becoming the 'house mom.'

"I am fine, thank you," he said cooly. Lydia's face visibly fell, but she tried to hide her disappointment. "Perhaps later," he added, seeing that.

"Of course, whatever you need. Would you like me to show you to your room?" Lydia wiped her mouth one last time with her napkin, and kissed both Mercutio and Erandur as she got up from her seat, intent on playing the Good Hostess.

"Please," he said, greatly relieved. Lydia quietly led him to the room she'd prepared for him during the conference in the study. She was efficient like that.

Sam sighed, leaning against Merc and watching them leave, "I do love watching that man walk."

"So what's the deal with tall, golden, and stoic?" Ama could barely contain herself, wanting to know everything right now about the interesting elf.

"Talon was one of the first 'Young Ones' and it has left a deep mark on him." Erandur told her. "We're hoping that it will heal over time. I think, helping the younger ones find their home has done some of that healing already. That was the first joke I've ever heard that man make, and that he felt safe enough here to do so," Erandur shook his head. "I'm counting it a small miracle."

"That title of Weapons Master is well deserved," Mercutio added. He eyed the littles table. Lucia caught his gaze, and chivvied the others to clear their plates and go wash for bedtime. He waited until they were gone to continue. "Young Ones that were not 'good enough' were culled, and that means exactly what you think it means. Talon made it his job to train them all well enough that didn't happen."

Nala and Ama were incoherent in their anger. Wemie studied her half empty plate as if it might hold the answer to everything. Her fork was suspiciously bent out of shape.

"If I may be excused, I think I am ready for bed." Wemie very deliberately laid down her utensils, and spoke in a very careful, soft voice.

"Um, oh yes. I think I can show you to your rooms, if you're ready." Gideon turned to Erandur and Mercutio. "You two alright riding herd?"

"Always," Erandur smiled. "I'll have the scamps settled soon enough. Go get our guests settled."

Sam watched Telki's sisters file out of the room, horrified and with ten thousand new things to take in and think about, and smirked, snuggling into Mercutio. The wheels in his head might have been greased in booze, but they were most definitely still turning, and he was long past overdue to have some new fun. And he had an idea.


	4. Steals Something from the Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew head back to Windhelm to do a kinfinding, find Merc by accident, then head on to the Ragged Flagon.

It was, as usual, freezing. Dawn was just lighting the sky in the east, and to the west everything was so dark and hazy it might as well have been lost in ink. Talon had been up for an hour. There were far too many sounds in this place, far too many people. What rest he had gotten was spotty, but after years of such things he was well able to cope with it.

One of the children had had a nightmare, and Erandur had needed to go calm them down. One of the boys had popped in and out of the room all night, snickering as if he was doing something naughty. There had been a frog with him at some point, very displeased.

Sanguine had roamed about half the night, slamming cupboards mostly, until he'd finally given up and with a burst of sound like someone had opened a door to a tavern, his noises had stopped for a few hours. He'd returned shortly before Talon had risen with a similar burst of merriment. It sounded as if he'd fallen into a bed somewhere.

Lydia had gotten up partway through the night to check on everyone, her light, steady footsteps distinct in the way she she normally walked to compensate for the heavy sword she wore and how it had altered the curvature of her spine over the years. If he'd had any doubt that she was also in a relationship with both Mercutio and Erandur, it was now gone.

Back in the Spire in Alinor, Talon had moved his room to a mostly unoccupied hall, where he only had to deal with people and their nightly comings and goings when there were high-ranking guests that brought their own retinue. Even then, people had occasionally prowled down the corridor—mostly the curious, the bored, or couples looking for a private place to meet. His door had been remarkable only in that he'd removed the knob and set it to open at the touch of his magic, and the interior had looked much the same as any of the other utilitarian guest rooms, if a bit narrower. That was also his fault; most of his belongings were hidden behind the wall he'd installed, in hidden cupboards between that and the original wall. His actual sleeping space had been concealed there as well. He'd killed too many people in their beds for him to ever really feel comfortable in one of his own. He was hardly the only Young One to have that particular problem.

Then, as now, he'd given up the fight for sleep after a few fitful hours of dozing, and taken himself quietly outside. The sounds of the lake were nowhere near as loud or obscuring as the crash of the Eltheric Ocean, but they were like enough to soothe him slightly, the familiar sound of water easing tension he'd been unable to relax out of his neck and shoulders. He could see well enough in the dark to sense the changes in light, and it was more than enough to allow him to go through sword-forms, the familiar movements finally quieting the jumble his thoughts had become in the night, even if most of those thoughts were ones that had caused tension in the first place.

One worry, at least, was put off. Once he'd located the last of the families of his former students, he'd been without a clear goal. The problem was not that he had nothing to do next, but that there were many things he could do, and at the moment, none of them appealed to him more than the others, although a few he rejected immediately. This attack postponed his need to contemplate those other roads: For the moment, his skills would be best put to use here.

Practicing still kept him warm, at least.

"Alkosh's hairy freaking  _balls_  is it cold out here!" Ama stumbled out on the second story landing, shivering in the cold. She'd rather be in bed, but she needed practice, and her dawn-rising sister already had the inside arena all occupied. She quickly shook herself out, and, facing the sun, began a series of stretches that left her looking more like a pretzel than a Khajiit.

Talon paused, glancing up at her. He wasn't quite ready to deal with anyone yet, but he felt his eyebrows twitch upwards at the sight of the white striped Khajiit. It had been a long time since he'd seen anyone able to fit their foot behind their head. Knowing what Shell would say was not helping. Tearing his eyes back down, he took a breath and returned to his practice, breath puffing out in the cold.

At least, he tried until Ama started singing.

Startled, he stopped again, simply watching her, wondering why on Nirn she was singing a lullaby this early in the morning. The answer was obvious when he saw her patterns matching up with the cadence, and he lowered his sword, sizing up what he saw automatically. She was still slightly stiff with cold, but even without using a weapon he could tell she was not unskilled. He recalled Telki once explaining that she'd gotten into the habit of singing while practicing her weapon's work, but he hadn't met anyone else that did so. He'd asked her to take it up again simply to stop the river of chatter that tended to come out whenever she was…whenever. It stood to reason that her sisters had shared her first instruction, though he had gotten the impression that her particular habits had come later, after she'd left her home.

"Dast it. I need a target. Surely she's got one around here somewhere?" Ama looked about, and then negligently dropped over the side, bending her knees to absorb the impact.

"It's down the hill," he said. She'd thought she was alone—bad idea, especially in this country. He'd seen far too many people who thought they were alone only to have to save them from something. Usually wolves. Skyrim had a ridiculous number of wolves. And bears. They had more saber cats in the west, but he'd been avoiding the Reach when he could.

Ama ducked and turned, a knife that hadn't been in her hand a moment before suddenly very much there. The startled "yeep" was utterly out of place. The knife disappeared just as quickly when she identified Talon. "Don't tell Wemie, I'll never hear the end of it," she winced, chagrined, knife whirling a bit before she sheathed it, her manner changing just as abruptly. "Care to join me?" Ama waved him to join her as she silently glided down the hill, a half smile on her face.

He considered a moment, then followed, longer legs easily catching up with her. "What is it you intend to do?" he queried.

"Practice knife throwing. I've not had a lot of time or space to practice traveling with the Sisses. I've probably gotten a tad rusty. Can't have that." Ama flipped a knife into her hand, and offered it hilt first to Talon. "One of the few gifts Telki sent over the years. Perfect balance. One of the reasons we expected to find 'Telki's Fine Crafts'…not Telki, World Savior."

Talon examined the dragonbone throwing dagger with some surprise. Telki had made this? He flipped it experimentally as they walked, found the balance was, indeed, perfect. Enchantments gleamed along the ebony and moonstone details on the hilt. Briefly, he wondered how she had time to learn to do things like this, with everything else she'd managed to fit into her short life so far. He'd known Altmer in their fifth centuries less accomplished. Handing it back to her, he said simply, "Your sister is a remarkable woman."

"I'm learning that. I always thought a lot of her, but…all this? Floored." Ama waved with both arms back at the farmhouse. "Learning the sister that used to hide baby mice in my bed is now a legend in her own right, thane of whathemany holds there are, best buds with the high king, and, oh yeah,  _raiding estates in Alinor_  is a bit much." Ama finally caught a breath. "It also tends to make me feel inadequate, but that's a load for another day."

"You are remarkably forthright about whatever you feel," he said after a moment, wondering if this was a family trait for a moment before deciding that it must be. Talon had been around spies and assassins so long that it was as refreshing as it was startling.

"Well, I don't know any other way to be. Holding all my feelings in tended to end badly, so, out they come, willy nilly." Ama handed that knife and two others back to him. "She sent a set of six. Care to see how they throw for yourself? You'll be asking her for your own set, I betcha."

"I have my own gear, but I will practice with you, if that is what you want," he said, examining them.

"I would like that, very much. I'll even tone down the chatter, if that'll make you stick around longer. You're good company." They finally arrived at the target. "Go ahead, make me feel like an absolute beginner, and then help make me better."

Tempted to raise an eyebrow, Talon merely observed, "So they have told you a bit about me," before putting all three daggers in the middle of the target in under two seconds.

"Yes, and like the nosey Khajiit I am, it was just enough to make me want to know more. No worries, I also know you're one of those private people, so I'll do my best to respect that." Ama admired the placement. "Okay, definitely want all the pointers. That is a thing of beauty." She removed the daggers, and took her turn.

Three seconds later, one dagger sat dead center, but the other two edged into the ring around the bullseye. "Almost. Dast it. Comments?"

"Try again," he said simply.

Ama grinned. "Hmm, now that certainly sounded familiar." She collected her daggers, took her stance, and tried again. This time, the second dagger edged closer to the center ring, but the third stubbornly remained just outside the bullseye. He asked her to do it once more, with similar results.

"You are very focused on your first throw, and you lower your arm slightly for your third. Also, you seem quite distracted," he said, having watched her rather than the path the daggers took. He was not loath to give instruction, and had even found himself missing it on several occasions. Perhaps that was something to consider.

"Well, I'll take any suggestions you got for dealing with surprisingly heroic sisters and super scrumptious teachers. I'll work on the arm thing."

"I am not often in your sister's presence," Talon revealed. He wasn't even going to touch her second problem. This was strangely reminiscent of instructing Shell, though by the mooning gazes of all three of Telki's sisters the night before, Ama actually meant her teasing.

"Now that's surprising." Ama concentrated on her throw, and gave a happy bounce when the third one edged that much closer to the center square.

Talon handed her another dagger. "Now try it with four."

"Yes, dear," Ama teased, gathering her knives from the target for another go. Two landed solidly in the center, and the latter two bracketed in the surrounding ring. Ama humphed in frustration.

"I am not a deer, I do not frolic in the woods," he retorted. Yes, very like tutoring Shell. He already dreaded the day she, Ama, and Telki were in the same room. He'd probably take Sanguine up on that offer of a drink.

"Pity, frolicking in the woods is one of life's greatest pleasures. Besides, you're not a Bosmer, not that sort of deer." She paused, a slow grin lighting up her face, "Heeey! You made a joke with me! I feel privileged."

"Try again," was all he said.

"Just, don't go masky on me, please? I'll shut up." Ama retrieved her daggers, and threw, raising her eyebrows in question when all four just did edge into the center circle.

"Good," he said, still contemplating what exactly she meant by "masky," "Now when you can do that consistently, you'll have gotten it."

Ama breathed out heavily through her nose, and gathered her knives to go at it again, still maintaining her silence, hoping to coax Talon into keeping company with her. After spending just these few minutes with him, she was starting to wonder if she was overdoing the flirting, then shrugged it off, deciding it was probably good for him.

He was watching her thoughtfully. "Throwing daggers consistently is valuable, but you might want to try having several targets. Few times in life will you need all your knives to hit the same small point."

She nodded. It only made sense. "Think you can help me set something up later?" There were too many kids around to just put jars on a fencepost, not with this bunch.

Talon turned suddenly, eyes narrowed at the grey sky. A swarm of butterflies appeared just after, growing rapidly closer before vanishing over the house. "I believe your sister is home," he commented, the tension of sensing someone nearing easing out of him, despite being a bit unnerved by the sight. Shell had described it to him, but he had yet to see it. He hoped he never had occasion to use it—being broken into numerous insects did not sound pleasant. "If you will excuse me, I must speak with her still," he inclined his head to her, handing over the last of her daggers.

"Telki's back? She still has to explain that whole leaving by butterfly thing." Ama tucked away her daggers, her clothing looking as smooth and unruffled as before, nary a hint of dagger showing. Talon approved—he hadn't seen many that had grasped the trick of looking fully unarmed. Most had to have at least one obvious weapon to draw the eye. "May I tag along?"

Nodding slightly, he headed toward where the butterflies had landed, finding Rommy and Telki there, very clearly not realizing they were being watched, unless he'd misjudged them and they enjoyed a bit of voyeurism. They hadn't quite gotten to the point of clothes flying, but there were definitely wandering hands.

"Sooo, were you guys wanting to put on a show, or did you miss landing in the bedroom?" Ama piped from just behind Talon's elbow.

Rommy's reaction of instantly moving to shield Telki before he recognized them was telling. Talon, not for the first time, sized him up, despite knowing that a Daedric Prince was unlikely to use physical means of fighting. Still, the man had been Grand Champion of the Arena before becoming Champion of Cyrodiil, and it still showed in his movements, as well as the signs of old injuries. Recognizing them, Rommy relaxed, standing from the slight crouch. Perhaps Talon had been hasty to discount a physical attack; that was clearly a movement to resheath something. Apparently Ama wasn't the only non-assassin to master concealed daggers.

"Right, not for public consumption," Ama took Rommy's protective posture at a glance, and her conclusion was much simpler; "don't even think it." Really, in her line of work as a counter-thief, simplest was generally best. Rommy could walk naked through the Ratway tunnels and be perfectly fine.

"Talon! Oh my gracious. It's good to see you. Um, is everything alright?" Telki took the opportunity to steal a hug, whether he liked it or not. He allowed her to put arms around him, and even gave her the awkwardest shoulder pat she'd ever received, but she was calling it a win. "Thank you. I appreciate you letting me hug you."

"I distinctly recall the prerequisite to that being that you learned to fight without chatter. I hope you are able to demonstrate." He wasn't entirely joking. It had been awhile since he'd fought someone he considered competent, and he wanted to see if his sometimes student had progressed her skills.

"Do we have time? I know you, this isn't a social visit, no matter how many times I invite you for one."

"The assassins that attacked you," he said, catching their attention instantly, "They were Imperial. They attacked the Palace of Kings as well. Fey and Tyr escaped unscathed, but they took the children. We recovered Pearl, but Blossom and Orien are missing still. Tyr requested you return to Windhelm to cast a kin-finding."

" _ **What?"**_  Telki fell back into Rommy, clutching him to keep upright. "Rommy, Love, we have to go. Now."

Rommy was doing some quick thinking, and he glanced back up at Talon, reading him. "You don't think they're in danger," he stated, the Weapons Master's calm state doing much to hold back the raging madness that rose like a wave at the notion that someone was attacking his family again.

"I believe they want the children alive. I would not stake my life on it," Talon replied.

Rommy took a moment to slam a few doors in his mind, though he knew he'd be paying for it later. It hardly mattered; time was of the essence. "Telki, can you tell everyone that wants to come to be ready in five minutes? I'm not waiting past that."

"Pffft, you know perfectly well all of them, including my sisters and Lydia, who usually prefers to stay behind, will want to go. No," she gazed up at him with determination in those lovely eyes of hers, "Who do you want with us, and who do you want guarding the homestead?"

"I…" Rommy thought a moment. "I'd like Gideon along—he proved effective against assassins back in Alinor. Merc should probably learn the kinfinding spell in case something like this ever happens again—"

"Don't you even dare think about going off without us!" Ama humpfed.

Rommy glanced at her, startled. He'd forgotten she was there, honestly. Looking down at Telki to see what she made of this, he shrugged. "What can you do?" he asked her.

"Are you sure you guys want in on this? I mean, you don't know the full story yet, and I'm not sure what y'all'll think once you do," Telki warned Ama.

"We don't know yet 'cause you haven't told us yet."

"You walked out before I even finished telling you about Alduin! How could I?"

"I just needed a minute to wrap my head around it all, and then you butterflied off, what's that about anyways?" Ama waited a breath for Telki to answer, and then turned her attention to Romulus. "Wemie and I work as a team guarding caravans. She comes in directly, I get 'em from the sides. I also scout. I can get in and out without being seen, usually with whatever proof I've been sent after. Nala likes to make things go boom. She is very good at making things go boom. The bigger the boom, the happier she is."

Trying to fit that with the calm booklover he'd seen so far, Rommy nodded curtly. "Fine. If Telki has no objections, you can come."

"I'll go grab 'em all," Ama offered. "I think Talon wanted to talk to you two personally. Without eager ears." Ama playfully wrinkled her nose at him, and loped off into the house to gather everyone.

Heaving a mental sigh, Talon turned to the couple and explained what he had surmised. "This won't be the last attack."

Rommy's eyes hardened. "What do you mean?"

"This was an attack for the Ruby Throne. The Nords are calling Tyr the True Emperor. Word of this has reached those in power, and they are frightened. Any Dragonborn has more claim to the throne than any candidate they have for Emperor when Mede dies. Now that they believe you know that, they will keep coming until they no longer think you a threat."

Telki shuddered next to Romulus. "So, what do we do? What about the kids?"

"Tyr's children have direct blood link, so they were the priority. I do not know if they would leave your adopted brood alone, though they may wish to be thorough." He was quiet a moment. "As to what you do…They believe you a threat; become one."

"They attacked my home, no worries, I'm the biggest damn threat they never wanted. However, I'm not naive enough to think I can kill every single idiot worried I'll want the stupid throne." Telki gave Talon a near murderous glare. "So, how do I keep them from coming after my kids?"

"For now, it is best to keep them under guard. To stop these attacks, we must convince the Elder Council or whoever else might feel threatened that you do not want the throne. Even if you were able to do that, someone might take steps to ensure you keep your word."

"Spit it out, Talon," Rommy growled, impatient. "What do you not want to say?"

The sigh was physical this time. "You have to get the Emperor to decree the attacks end. Mede is not the type of man to enforce such an edict once made."

"Welp, considering it's his munchkins on the line too, I don't think Tyr'll grouse too much about having to take the throne now. Right?" Telki looked from one worried face to the next for confirmation.

"Most likely," Rommy said ruefully, pulling her against him, "he's going to spend the first decade of the new Empire making the lives of the Elder Council miserable for putting him in the position to rush."

"They endangered my children and my grandchildren. I'll be happy to help." The evil grin was entirely too at home on the usually cheerful face.

"Never doubted that for a moment," Rommy said, giving her a squeeze.

Talon marveled at that for a moment, at this deadly side to a normally caring, friendly personality. Despite occasionally taking her exuberance to the extreme, Telki was a magnificent person to have as an ally, and he truly pitied the people that angered her enough for her to declare them her enemies. The look the Imperial was giving him told him that Rommy knew exactly what he was thinking, and approved. It was all too easy for people to underestimate Telki, and he wondered if she realized what a potent weapon that was.

"Hail hail, the gang's all here. Now what?" Ama pushed the still grooming Mercutio out the door, her sisters laughing behind them, and Gideon following behind, shaking his head at the nonsense.

Looking them over, Rommy asked, "Where's Sam?"

"I left him asleep in bed," Mercutio answered. "Tried to wake him enough to tell him what was going on. I got mumbles."

Without a word, Rommy marched into the house, returning a moment later dragging Sam by the ear as he yelped. "Ow. Ow.  _Ow!_  Not that I don't like it when you— _hic!_ —get all dominant and sexy on me— _hic!_ —Rommy, but I need my ears." He rubbed the offended ear when his friend released it, giving him a grumpy look up and down. "There are more fun ways to— _hic!—_ punish me than twisting my ear."

"My grandchildren have been kidnapped and this is way too much weight to butterfly," Rommy said shortly. "You can make direct portals to specific doors; I can't yet." Chaos magic had some decidedly annoying pitfalls, particularly when the result needed to be specific, precise, or wouldn't benefit from exploding.

"Uh-huh," Sam drawled, looking more awake by the moment. "What'll you give me?"

"I won't punch you, and I won't tell the Girls not to visit," Rommy glared at him, eyes glowing faintly.

Sanguine paused, taking this in, and capitulated without a fight. Romulus was much more fun than full Sheogorath, especially an angry Sheogorath that couldn't recall what he was angry about. "One day, I will— _hic!—_ get something out of you," Sam pouted, opening a portal to Candlehearth Hall where the front door used to be. After all, who would he pester if Rommy wasn't around? Well, mortals, but it wasn't the same.

"Oh wow. Oh wow." Nala was practically drooling, her cobalt eyes shining with enthusiasm. "I so want to learn how to do that."

Sam winked at her. "I can make a— _hic!—_ portal to any— _hic!—_ inn," he told her. "I'd be happy to— _hic!—_ show you…" his voice very clearly insinuated it would cost her.

"Nononono, you teach me how to do that, and  _that_  becomes a definite possibility." Nala flicked her eyes at Merc, "As long as it doesn't make Muffin make that face again."

"You can negotiate terms later," Rommy said, stepping through and starting for the door.

Telki shuddered. "My sister negotiating herself for a spell? So not ready for that."

Talon shook his head and went through, deciding for the sake of his own skin to let the woman discover what she was bargaining with for herself. Chances were the spell wasn't one a mortal could cast anyway. The temperature plummeted another ten degrees the moment they got to Candlehearth, and they were still inside. He sighed inwardly; he really didn't like this climate.

"I have fur, and I'm cold. How do these Nords stand it?" Wemie growled, shrugging her cloak closer around her.

"Nords are naturally resistant to cold," Talon told her, eyes examining her face. She did, indeed have fur—it was so short and fine it was easily mistaken for extremely smooth skin. That, then, was another difference between Ohmes and Ohmes-Raht. Ohmes were so similar to Bosmer most couldn't tell the difference, and they often got cat-patterned tattoos to clarify their race. Ohmes-Raht didn't have that problem, having both tails and pointed, tuffed ears. He filed it away for later.

"What? They're part ice atronach?" Wemie shuddered again.

"Wouldn't surprise me," he grumbled slightly.

Mercutio leaned close to Wemie. "That's why I had Telki put heat enchants on mine." He wiggled his wedding band at her, "Works wonders."

Rommy hadn't paused to let the patrons gawk, and it seemed he had met Galmar just outside the inn and pulled the man aside to interrogate him thoroughly. Bjartr stood next to them, looking serious. After seeing Telki's children, it occurred to Talon that he looked far  _too_ serious, especially for a nine year old.

"Oh good gracious, but you're a cutie!" Ama had oozed around them all to meet the little boy, getting down to his eye level. "Hi, I'm Ama, what's your name?"

"Damn, there's more of her?" Galmar looked over the group. "There's a standing 'no ice wraiths' rule in the Palace, got it?"

Bjartr looked startled for a moment, remembered he wasn't supposed to fade into the background anymore, and puffed up with a wide grin. "I'm Bjartr, and I am fierce."

"Hopefully, not too fierce to give a hug? I seem to be short one today. Care to help?" Ama asked, opening arms invitingly.

"You remind me of Telki," Bjartr said, obliging. Hugs were rather nice, he'd found.

"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me yet. She's my sister." Ama squeezed the little boy. "You give good hugs."

"I've been practicing," he told her matter-of-factly.

"You made it," Pearl said, materializing between Talon and Telki's remaining sisters. In her white Skaal coat over her usual dress and faint coloring, she looked like a ghost.

"Sweet skoomacat's whiskers, where'd you come from?" Wemie backed up a step, successfully fighting the urge to  _draw_. It was just a child, not an assassin or a bandit.

Pearl looked her over a moment, taking in everything about her in a practiced way that had become second nature to her by now. "We need to get back to the Palace. Mother is frantic."

Talon nodded, following the girl around the inn without further ado. Fey would be frantic by now, though he doubted anyone but someone that knew her well would be able to see it in the increasingly still demeanor she usually adopted. Rommy noticed them walking and continued to interrogate Galmar on the move, all of them heading to the Palace.

Telki took in her sisters rather miserable faces. "Rommy, how good are you at off-the-cuff magic items?"

"Fair, why?" he asked, turning to walk backwards and regard her thoughtfully. "Unless they already exist, then slightly better."

"Merc's heat ring, think you can make three of 'em? To fit my walking ice zombie sisters?"

Tilting his head a moment, he reached into a passing brazier and stole some of the flame, pressing it in his palm, then pulling some of the snow out of the air and pressing that in too. Opening his hand, three silver bangles fell to dangle on his fingers, the light glinting off them strangely red, like a sword that burnt when it cut. He handed them to her, "I draw the line at giving your sisters rings; I'm still dealing with multiple husbands."

Telki laughed in delight, kissing him soundly. "Thank you, Love. These will do nicely." Telki turned to give her sisters the gifts only to see three dropped jaws and Nala wheeze-squealing.

"How in Baan Dar's name did you do that? Can you teach me? Please? Pretty Please?" She barely noticed Telki slipping the bracelet on her, though her body immediately relaxed in the sudden warmth. "Sweet Mother Cat above, that feels good." The other two quickly claimed their gifts, their postures and expressions revealing how well the warmth spells worked.

Despite everything, Rommy was laughing. He glanced at Talon, seeing the amusement behind the mer's eyes, and grabbed another lick of flame, this time from a torch. "Here, Talon. I like you enough to not want to see you turn into a banana-cicle." He tossed another bracelet at the elf, who caught it neatly, slipping it onto his wrist and visibly relaxing.

"Thank you, Romulus," he said with very real gratitude.

Pearl cleared her throat. "Rommy, I do not ask for much, but I demand one."

Laughter lit up the courtyard as they reached the door, Rommy pulled in yet more flame and snow, making her a bracelet that slipped over her small hand and contracted to fit her wrist. A small, perfect pearl was set into the shining band of silver. "All you needed to do was ask,  _bella."_

"Thank you," she said, sighing happily and admiring it. She wasn't really one for jewelry, but it was shiny with magic with an understated design, and she found herself liking it immensely, not just for the warmth it provided.

"Rommy!" a familiar voice called, laden with relief, as they entered. Tyr jogged up from the other side of the room, handsome face lined with worry, red hair down and with the tie completely missing. He kept having to brush it back and out of his eyes. "You made it."

"Seriously, did  _all_ the attractive men just decide to move to the coldest province in existence, because sheesh-a-mighty!" Ama was comically fanning herself.

"I'd agree, but I'm just a little weirded out by how much he resembles  _my sister_ ," Wemie observed.

Tyr glanced up, startled, then flushed. "Ah…who's this?"

Telki stepped forward like she was a showman presenting the next act, "Tyr, allow me to introduce my sisters and current banes of my existence. Wemie, Nala, and the noisy one is Ama."

"Nice to meet you," he said, blinking at them in slight confusion, then giving Rommy a teasing glance. "Cousin, you have  _in-laws._ How happy for you."

Telki gave Tyr a long slow blink. "I think, Rommy, when I am forced to take you to meet the rest of the clan, he has to come, too."

"Oh, no," Tyr said, holding up his hands in a warding gesture and backing up a pace, "I did my time with in-laws, thank you very much. I'm looking forward to no in-laws until the children grow up and marry. And, well, Gideon, maybe."

"You're adorable. Utterly silly, but adorable. I think we'll keep you," Telki informed him gleefully. "Anyways, why don't we get this show on the road, so we can get our littles back safe and sound, hey?"

"Sounds good to me. Ulfric's already set up the room. He said this was how you found us in Alinor?" Tyr shook his head, leading them all toward the war room. "Seriously, Rommy, you have to be my mage when they throw that crown at me; no one else is going to match up."

"Have things to do, Tyr," Rommy shrugged.

"So you've told me," the Nord said, swinging easily into the war room. Fey was already there, setting out a map. The gowns she had been wearing since coming to Skyrim had been replaced with her armor, and her rose-gold hair swung free around her. She paused when Tyr came in, taking her hand and kissing the back of her fingers, holding her close for a moment.

Telki elbowed Rommy, and whispered for his ears only. "Shug, you are going to have to tell him at some point. I mean, Talon knows before your own grandyoungen. That's not fair to either of you."

"You pick the absolute worst times to bring this up," he groaned.

"Sorry, Love. Can't help when I get reminded you've been dragging your feet on this." Telki kissed his nose, and squeezed his middle with the arm still wrapped around him.

He sighed, then moved over to the table. Talon had retreated to the sideboard, arranging some things on a tray that Ulfric had apparently set out, including a small silver cup and knife, and—for some reason—a large stack of tallow dips. Now he brought the small collection of items over, and Rommy smiled his thanks, taking the small silver blade. "I may not need the rest, this time," he said. "This is my own blood—provided none of my estranged kin are somehow walking around Skyrim, the twins and Tyr should be the only ones showing up."

Talon inclined his head, setting the tray to the side, then examining Fey and Tyr. They were still together, one arm around their partner's back as their other hands clasped. Tyr was saying something urgent and quiet, while Fey listened with the utter stillness she showed only when extremely stressed. Her eyes were flat and sober as she gazed at her husband. Talon looked back down to what Rommy was doing, setting his mind on the problem at hand.

Over in a corner, out of everyone's way where she could watch, Ama noticed his gaze linger. So, that was part of Talon's problem: He'd given his heart already, but hers belonged elsewhere. She nibbled on the conundrum of how to help in the back of her mind, while still keeping tabs on the comings and goings in the room.

Rommy had pricked his finger with the dagger, welling a large drop onto the silver tip and setting the spell around that. Dripping his blood on the map over Windhelm, he watched it separate into two drops, then three, then five, the last two rolling quickly south, stopping over the crest of Riften. He frowned at the three drops still in Windhelm. "Um…Huh."

"What does that mean?" Tyr asked, only realizing that there was another drop when he looked up and followed Rommy's gaze.

"It means you and I are about to glow, and someone else is, too," Rommy said, waving his hand over the three drops, which started to glow a faint green. Rommy's skin started to glow as well, as if a faintly lit mist was rising from it.

Tyr examined his hands doubtfully and shuddered. "So, we just keep an eye for anyone else looking like they got bit by Peryite?"

"Um? Guys?" Mercutio looked down at his glowing hands, a rather startled and panicky expression smothering his face. "I'm lit up like a nirnroot."

Tyr and Rommy blinked at him with identical expression of dumbfoundment. Tyr cursed in Dunmeris, which had quite a bit more expansive vocabulary for invective than Common, most of which his father had forbidden him from ever repeating. He figured he'd be forgiven in this instance.

"Merc…" Rommy said slowly, "What's your family name?" He'd never asked before, partially because it was rude, partially because Merc never seemed to want to talk about it.

"Lerestrake." Short, clipped, oh there were definitely not fond memories there. The sour frown and furrowed brows only cinched it.

Wincing slightly, turning to lean on the table and cover his eyes with one hand, he got out, "Low nobility, unlanded, deal mostly in spices and spice-related goods?"

"How'd you guess? Magic wouldn't support a proper wife and family. That's what the family trade was for." That was an obvious quote someone'd heard too many times.

"Oh, gods, they're still at it," Rommy rubbed his head like it ached.

Tyr, seeing they were missing the point, walked over and gave Merc the traditional Nordic bearhug. "Welcome, kinsman. Shall we sit down and drink this out later after we retrieve my children?"

"Sounds good." Merc leaned into the hug. Funny he had to run all the way to Skyrim to find real family.

"I have one request," Telki looked fit to burst, with mirth or tears was hard to tell. "I get to tell Sam."

Eyes widening comically in dismay, Rommy glanced at Merc, who shuddered, asking, "How do you think he's going to take my sudden familial ties?"

Rommy shrugged, turning back to the map to see the children's drops hadn't moved, "If I had to guess? Bookend jokes. With him as the book."

"Pffft, please, I've been making the bookend jokes all along." Telki smirked, "Which is why I wanna tell him. Please? Pretty please?"

"Not to dampen your parade, but shouldn't we be focusing on the two little dots?" Wemie looked about, "And should their mother be alone at this time? She left. Ama's following her."

Talon glanced over with vague hints of surprise on his face that someone was actually  _able_  to follow Fey while Tyr cursed and rushed out the door.

"Um, Rommy, do you have a good enough lock we can play advanced troops?" Telki looked over the little map, and the dots barely moving. "Keep them busy until Fey and company get there?"

"Riften is riddled with tunnels. They could be hiding anywhere." Galmar studied the map carefully. "One reason we could never quite run the Thieves' Guild out."

"Etienne! You remember him, Rommy? " Telki bounced, hope bubbling like a spring. "He'd help us find them."

Grumbling inwardly at Sam apparently going right back to bed, Rommy stated, "I can take two other people at a time." Gauging the distance between Windhelm and Riften, he sighed, resigned. "Telki's going first; who else?"

"You're magic, she's diplomacy; you'll need a frontline fighter," Wemie pointed out.

"Then me," Gideon said, patting his hammer. "Very little can stand against Shor's hammer."

"Eh, just don't bring the tunnels down, Love?" Telki winced. She could easily see half of Riften crumbling in on itself with one good careless swing.

Gideon gave her an affronted look. "I'm always careful."

"Everyone decided?" he asked, glancing around. "Good. I'll be right back," with that, he dissolved into butterflies, grabbing Telki and Gideon on his way out. It took several minutes to get to Riften, and Rommy elected to bypass the hustle at the door by dropping them right on the door to the Ratway. "Telki, can you get us what passes for guides and safe passes while I get whoever else is coming? I should probably look for Tyr on the way back."

"Sure!" Telki found an accommodating pipe, and rapped out her favorite knock. "Etienne should be here like….now."

A familiar frizzy brown head popped into view. "Oi, of course it's you." He breathed a deep sigh of relief. "I'm betting you're here about the visitors, then?"

A wide, feral smile graced Telki's face. "How'd you guess?"

"Well, it always is, isn't it? Don' think we forgot what happened the last time you blew through here, though those Thalmor left some expensive stuff behind."

"Uh, yeah, Etienne, you remember Rommy and Gideon? We really need to get to the kids. Their mom is scarier than scary on a warpath, and we need to get them home safe. We can chat later."

"Well, there's a problem with that, see." Etienne nodded to both men, and then scratched his head as he tried to figure the best way to break the bad news. "Uh, nobody's seen any kids, though there's been talk, and all them spooky Imperial types have claimed different little nests in the Ratways. That lot could give those bloody crows a run for their money." Etienne covered his mouth with a hand, thinking hard. "Seems like they paid the Guildmaster for space, but didn't say nothing about keeping quiet-like, leastways not where I could hear." Etienne smiled as he beckoned them on into the sheltered tunnel, away from curious eyes. "I don't reckon you've heard we're under new management?"

"Oh?" Telki followed Etienne carefully, footsteps quiet in the dark, though the soft talk between Etienne and she made that useless.

"Yep, big tossup. We've now basically three bosses, and Mercer's dead as dead." Etienne stopped just before the Ragged Flagon. "Now, here's the tricksy bit. There's several nests, see, and only one li'l me. We could try to visit all of them before the others were alerted to our intrusion, or I can see if I can get some volunteers to guide each of you. Volunteers might need compensation."

"There will be more of us in a few minutes," Rommy said, leaning over and giving Telki a quick kiss. "You have this in hand," he said, heading out to get more people.

"Alrighty then, Etienne, go get our little helpers." She shooed him into the Ragged Flagon, while Gideon remained a large presence behind her back. She was rather intrigued by the increased noise coming from the Ragged Flagon. She didn't remember it being that busy last time she came through here. New Management was apparently good for business.

Etienne was back out very quickly. "That's odd. Upper brass is all gone. We should be able to bargain through Delvin, though."

"Okay, that's worrisome." Telki was tapping her teeth as she thought it through. "Gideon, ideas?"

Gideon's gaze was zeroed in on a brick across from them. He wasn't really studying the brick, Telki knew, but thinking fiercely. "Did Management seem worried about these 'spooky Imperials?"

"Nocturnal's kiss, how didn't I see it before? She were, too. Askin' questions about the lot of them." Etienne rubbed his head in thought. "Right, so, she's onto them, and I reckon you want to make sure the kids get out safe. That means we'll definitely have to split up. I'll see if any of the lads and lassies want to rumble." Etienne smiled, "Shouldn't be hard. They're right protective of our little Fox."

In short order, Telki and Gideon were ushered into the Flagon. Telki nodded to the few she knew, taking stock of the ones she didn't. She took from the slightly indulgent expressions this wasn't Etienne's usual bag.

"Right then," Etienne called, getting their attention, "we've got these bleedin' Imperials clogging up our tunnels, Fox's missing, and so's Brynn and Karliah. We've solid proof now there are kidnapped kids in the tunnel, and that's bad business for us. So, we need guides to get these people to the nests, and pronto."

"They're not just kidnapped kids, but the children of the new Dragonborn Emperor. That makes this an international incident playing out in your tunnels. I doubt the Guild needs that sort of attention," Gideon informed them in his steeliest paladin voice.

One of the women, a blonde with short hair, shivered, and smacked a bald man near her on the shoulder. "When you can sound like that, you can watch me bathe any day."

Telki could barely contain her snicker. From the talks she'd had with Etienne, she would bet money that was Vex. Just wait 'til she heard Rommy or Tyr, poor woman.

"If we're going to hit all of them, you need more people," A large man in the back with facial tattoos in brown only a few shades darker than his skin pointed out.

"More are coming," Telki assured him. "We have a mage running them in, but he can only transport so many at a time."

"I take it we're being paid for this in more than goodwill?" he persisted, this time looking at Etienne.

"I'm sure we can work something out," Delvin spoke up from where he sat, gloved hand stroking his chin, "Eh, Telki? Still have some of those Dragonbone weapons lying about?"

Telki playfully narrowed her eyes at him. "Got any dragons lying about?" she sighed when his face clouded in confusion. "If I don't already, I'll happily make you some custom. How's that?"

"One for each of these rogues leadin' ya about, should do it. Some of them might actually keep them for themselves," he commented, stretching his legs out.

"Keep my people safe an' I'll throw the enchants in for free."

"That  _is_  incentive," Delvin said, eyebrows rising.

"Telki!" Tyr called, bounding into the room with his usual vigor and unusual preoccupation. "Any sign of them?"

"Tyr, she's been here two minutes," Rommy sighed, following. Fey was glancing around the room, gaze lingering on one or two of the members keeping to the back, while Ama looked like she was still recovering from being a flock of insects.

"These lovely people are going to guide us to the 'spooky Imperial' pockets, of which there're several, and not even these lovely nosey people knows which one has the kiddles. So, we hit all of them at the same time, we're sure to get our munchkins back, right?" Telki thought she needed to talk quick, before Fey decided to settle the problem her own inimitable way. Telki didn't even know what that would be, and she didn't want to see it.

"Exactly how many more are comin'?" inquired Delvin, glancing away from Vex's mildly impressed face with ill grace.

"Um, Merc, Talon, Wemie, Nala, and then we can go smite evil wicked Impie kidnapping dobadders." Telki was patting poor Ama's back, eventually resorting to giving her a sip of sober mead. She almost didn't get the bottle back.

"Galmar's insisting on joining us," Rommy sighed, looking put-upon. He looked at Etienne, "If I just send them down without Telki, will that be alright?"

"I suppose so, she's vouched for ye all, s'good enough for me and these blokes."

Fey walked forward as Rommy left, examining Etienne a moment. "These Ratways of yours, are there many exits?"

"Um, eh, well, used to be," poor Etienne sweated and stammered. "Management's had most of those boarded up. Now there's just the Canal front, Flagon, and Dockside for Guild purposes."

Fey nodded, her eyes cutting to the members she'd been examining earlier. One of them nodded, and her stance relaxed. She made a complicated handsign and he nodded again, the three of them moving out and into the Ratway. "The other exits are covered," she told Telki, interrupting her conversation with her sister on breathing. "It seems some of my former colleagues chose a life suited to their skills."

"Alrighty then. Now, are we going to wait to hit them all at the same time, so none of them have a chance to run or port again?" Telki wondered who died and put her in charge. Somebody else could play ringmaster to this circus of monkeys. "Rommy should have the rest here soonish."

"Too late," Tyr replied, "We seem to be down a Gideon, and if he's not waiting, neither am I." He turned, looked at the thieves assembled, nearly picked one when Vex shoved him out of the way, offering to lead Tyr herself. Oblivious, he told her to lead the way.

Fey shook her head at his obtuseness and followed. Telki stayed, knowing more were coming and would need sorting, and she knew if anyone had a chance in Oblivion keeping Rommy from flipping his lid on these kidnappers, it was her. So she chatted everyone up, learning who was who, who did what, and did her charming best to make allies where they'd need them most, and waited for the next batch to send out.

Thieves Guild members always knew everyone's business. Time to see what they knew of their visitors'.


	5. Where the Offense Is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kidnappers are holed up in the Ratway, but with two Dragonborn and a Daedric Prince in the rescue party, there's nowhere safe for long. Things take an unexpected turn when a new party takes an interest...
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo...Wynni's computer is out, and Evil forgot this place exists, so ya'll get a chapter dump. ^^; I also can't recall how to embed pictures, so those are forthcoming as well. Please be patient with me, I'm chronically tired.

Rommy looked slightly irritated and a bit tired when he next came in to the Flagon, everyone that had wanted to come trailing in behind him. The stress of the last two days was starting to weigh on him, and suppressing his mad side so completely was getting more and more difficult, but he couldn't afford to get distracted until they knew the twins were safe. He'd not wanted to listen to—or wait for—the arguing, so he'd just brought them all at once, and was regretting it. Moving through Nirn with that much weight was more taxing than he'd thought, not to mention Galmar's butterflies had all shrieked bloody murder the entire time. The priests in the Temple of Mara might never recover from their flyby.

"Rommy! You impatient man. C'mere. Drink this and then let me hold you a minute. Okay? Okay." He was only too happy to fall into a chair a moment, drinking the Sober Mead Telki handed him, pulling her down onto his lap for a cuddle while he did so. The screaming in his mind always seemed less burdensome with her nearby, and he was taking full advantage of it.

"We should get going," Talon said softly, taking in the room a moment before returning his eyes to them.

"Give me a minute," Rommy grumbled, resting his forehead on Telki's shoulder. "You all are heavy."

"Talon, you and Ama can go with Vipir, there. Galmar, you and Nala are heading out with Mr. Delvin, there. Wemie, Merc? Sapphire's guiding you two. Kay? Kay. Shoo, let me get him back on his feet, and we'll hit our target right on schedule, no worries." Telki directed with a careless hand, not moving from her melted spot on Rommy's lap.

"Thanks," he said simply, giving her a little squeeze.

"Hmm, anytime, Love. My other Boys are in good hands, and you needed a little care; course I'ma be there for you." Telki nuzzled into her favorite spot, kissing his neck.

Smiling, he gave her a deep, lingering kiss before becoming aware that everyone was watching, many of them smirking, and considered turning them all into cheese. "We should go," he said.

Telki studied him carefully; his color was back and he was giving her a very 'take it to the bedroom' look. Yep, all betters. "Alrighty then." She slid off his lap and turned to find Etienne carefully inspecting what drinks Vekel had hiding behind his bar.

"You know," Rommy said, amused, "I'm not planning on turning you to stone again any time soon."

"Good to know, and I heartily plan on not changing your mind any time soon, either. Right Lady and Gentleman? Our path lies this way."

Delvin was in front of her, Galmar behind her, putting Nala in the relatively sheltered middle as they both assured her they would keep her safe. Delvin had staked his life on it and stared at her hips a bit longer than was strictly necessary, and Galmar had brought up ice wraiths again. At some point, someone was going to have to tell her what that was about.

"Now these tunnels ahead are full of traps," Delvin was saying, glancing at her over his shoulder. Once again, his eyes started on her face and flickered downwards. "Step lightly, and follow my footsteps."

"I guard merchant caravans, you know. I'm quite capable," Nala huffed. Dratted robes restricted her tail lashing, which probably didn't help her mood. What was it that always made everyone treat her like a fragile figurine that might break? Ama never seemed to have this hassle. Wemie, Moons above, she'd break anyone that thought it for half a second. Why her?

Galmar chuckled darkly behind her. "Eyes back in your head, Delvin. I'll be happy to pin them there myself if you like."

"I don't mean no offense," Delvin started to say as a figure crept up behind him, dagger at the ready.

Nala reacted with instincts honed by years on the road, and seared it with a jet of white-hot flame almost as soon as she spotted it. Delvin shrieked in a manner he would deny ever happened and dove out of the way. The assassin cried out in pain, dancing back and frantically trying to put out the fire. Galmar sidestepped around Nala, and buried his axe in the flailing assassin. "Nice job, Nala." Galmar wiped his weapon on the body, and turned to assess Delvin and Nala. "Shall we continue?"

Delvin was eyeing Nala up with a completely different expression. "You just charbroiled that bloke with no hesitation," he blurted. It had been a while since he saw such a businesslike execution, though he was no stranger to it. He hadn't been expecting it out of the doll-like sister of the perky Dragonborn.

"Considering he was about to knife you in the back? Yes, none. Else I'd be trying to plug your kidneys to keep you from bleeding out." Nala made a little 'carry on' flourish with her hand. "Now, shall we?" Behind her, Galmar chuckled low in his chest.

"Uh, yeah," Delvin said, straightening and inching past her. "Right this way."

**.**

* * *

**.**

Tyr leaned against the wall, violet eyes gleaming and watching Fey take apart the two assassins that had come after her with his usual admiration. He'd killed one, Vex had taken out another, and the two that actually seemed like they knew what they were doing were now learning to their woe that they really didn't. Fey had once told him that her name meant "grace" in Aldmeris, and it was meant as a joke about her dance-like fighting style. He hadn't understood what she'd meant until the escape, but now he found watching her almost as good as hitting someone himself. He glanced at Vex, smiling a bit goopily, "Isn't she great?"

"Frighteningly efficient and effective." Vex watched Fey with something approaching horrified admiration.

"Oh, she's not being efficient," he told her cheerfully. "They'd be dead already if she were being efficient." He shrugged, going back to admiring the way his wife moved, "She's just letting off some steam."

"Do be quiet, Love," Fey said off-handedly, knocking one to the ground and stepping on his neck. "Where are my children?"

"I'm not—" he gurgled as she stepped a bit harder, his face turning blue before she let up, fending off the other one off by forcing him to dodge fireballs. "Back," he coughed, "they're in the back, further in."

"Thank you," she said, then kicked him in the skull. "You can live. In prison." She glanced up at Vex, "I can trust you to get him there, correct?" she asked sweetly, knowing the probable answer.

"Does he have to have a tongue?" Vex did not want to tick off a woman more diabolical than herself.

"I said I'd let him live. I never made any claims to the quality of his life," she shrugged, kicking the remaining assassin off the walkway and watching him fall. "Oh, he lived."

"There are a lot of skeevers around here, Fey," Tyr said, coming over to examine the man. "Best make it clean."

"If you insist," she sighed, summoned a Bound Bow, shot the man, and turned back to Vex. "So…further in?"

"That would be this way." Vex gestured down a dank tunnel. "Need me to show you, or want me to handle…that?" Vex kicked at the remaining goon.

"I don't think he'll be able to complain too much if he gets nibbled on. Wouldn't bother me much, anyway," Tyr said, glancing down at the man that had helped kidnap his children. "We might want to tie him up, though."

Vex pulled a cord out of her belt pouch. "Well then, never let it be said the Guild wasn't prepared. Eh?" Quickly and neatly, she trussed the kidnapper like a goose for Solstice dinner.

"Perish the thought," Fey replied with some humor.

"Shall we, dear?" Tyr asked, holding out an arm for her.

"Of course,  _mellani_. Let's go kill some kidnappers and get our children home. It's past their bedtime," she replied, taking his arm. "Come on, Vex!"

"Right behind you." Vex idly wondered how much of that trust was because she knew full well she couldn't touch her.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Talon looked down at the dead assassin at his feet and felt sorry for the poor sod. If Tyr ever did become Emperor, he hoped he found someone a bit more competent to train his agents. No wonder they had lost the war. Standing, he watched Ama and Vipir come around the corner and stop.

"Well, that answers that." Vipir looked at the kill and softly whistled. "Never making you mad."

"There are four ahead," Talon said softly. "I can take them, if you wish."

"And let you have all the fun? Hardly." Vipir rolled his shoulders, eager to show off for the pretty Khajiit. Shooting her a smile when he saw her watching, he assured them, "I'm good for more than just picking pockets."

"I believe it; you have thatch on your shoe," Talon retorted, turning to gaze down the hall.

"Call it, Talon." Ama had already shaken two daggers out, one in each hand. Seriously, it seemed all the good eye candy had moved to Skyrim. She'd seen more pretty men in the short time she'd been here, than the entire time they'd been on the road. Maybe if she could find one warm enough, it'd make it worth staying in this icicle of a place. Better yet, one that wanted to move somewhere snow was a purely winter phenomena.

Talon cast Detect Life, the spell going off without a sound. "One is leaning against the wall beside the right side of the door. Two are at a table playing dice. The fourth is sleeping," he said, tilting his head and listening carefully. "If you want the two at the table, I'll take out the guard. Vipir, that leaves the fourth to you."

"He'll not wake up." Vipir pulled a wicked looking dagger out of his bandolier.

"I can get them both." Ama nodded to him, "Say when."

"When," he said, bursting into the room and disappearing to the right. The pair at the table looked up in surprise and horror, rising. They both went down with timely placed daggers in their throats, ensuring no guards would be called. Vipir neatly slit the sleeper's throat, and then cleaned his knife on the bed before resheathing it.

Talon was prowling around the room, looking for signs of other occupancy. There was nothing. These were apparently the only men living in this "nest," and they were not those in charge of Blossom and Orien.

"The bodies are clean, nothing here." Ama sounded extremely disappointed. "I had hoped at least their lair would contain a clue."

"Distraction, then. One of the redfish in the pool to hide the one you're looking for," Vipir was checking the room over for secrets, and coming up as frustrated as the rest. "There's nothing here to be found."

"Then we move on," Talon said, moving toward the door. The echoes faintly ringing off the stone told him the others had encountered resistance more prepared than their opponents had been. Though difficult to tell, he thought he heard several people running. "It could be some of the others will need the help."

"Well, boys, what're we waitin' on? Let's go!" Ama was the first to the door, looking over her shoulder as if to scold the 'slowpokes'. Finally starting to adjust to her mannerisms, Talon merely followed, though Vipir looked slightly as if he were floating after her. Ama quietly ghosted down the passageway, following the nearest sounds of combat.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Rommy learned something crucial about Etienne; he was rather squeamish about seeing someone turned literally inside out. Telki had been quietly calming the man's hysterics for the last minute or so, trying to get him to stop retching and drink some Sober Mead. Sighing, he glanced down at the steaming pile of offal, turned it right-side-in (not that it made the man any less dead) and walked over to the pair. "Sorry," he said, "I may have gotten a bit carried away."

"I thought, after that time in Elenwen's lair, I'd seen it all," Etienne shuddered. "Nice to know I can still be…" Etienne doubled over again, "shocked."

Rommy winced. Telki left the Sober Mead with Etienne, and pulled Rommy away. "Take the memory. You messed up, this'll be a quick fix so we can get on down the hallway. Just, try not to get too vengeful on the next one. You have permission to cheese the Void out of them."

"Not really in a cheese kind of mood. In a bloody entrails mood," he muttered quietly, hair lightening as his eyes flashed golden.

Telki glared right back, grabbed his face with both hands, and kissed him for all she was worth. "How 'bout now?"

"That…was thoroughly distracting, thank you," he managed, licking his lip where she'd bit it. "I'll just, uh, go fix the thief." Returning to Etienne, he touched the man's mind, found the memory that was quickly rooting itself for a long stay, and pulled it out like a weed. There were several other memories it's roots had been tangling with, most of them involving Thalmor. He looked at them a moment, then forced them to wither. They'd never be gone, but they wouldn't be painful, either. "Feel better?" he asked, awkwardly patting the Breton on the shoulder.

"Aye, much. Still don't know what came over me. I'm ready now, though."

"Oh, the assassin gave you a concussion," Rommy lied without missing a beat. "Nasty things, head injuries. Make you very nauseous. Between Telki's brew and my limited knowledge of such things, you should be good to go, though."

"Many thanks, mate." Etienne rubbed his hands anxiously across the tops of his thighs, and then got up on steady legs. "Right, on we go, this way."

**.**

* * *

**.**

Wemie silently cursed, looking up and down the empty stinking tunnel for something to hit. She needed the familiar activity to keep from thinking about all the unholy crazy finding Telki had unloaded on her life. Her sister was Dragonborn, savior of pretty much all Creation, and married to three men, adding a fourth, all with some serious mojo of their own. All her life, Wemie looked out for her little sisters. Now, Telki had people that could do it better, and she hadn't even told her family she'd met anyone. Exactly what place did Wemie have in her life?

Their mother was going to hit the roof and not stop until she reached the Moons. Over the last few years she'd started quietly fretting about none of her girls even showing an interest in settling down. While she didn't actively disapprove of the lives they'd chosen, she missed them and loved children every bit as much as Telki did. Having one of her girls finally settle back at the post with some littles for her to dote over would be a dream come true. Wemie wasn't looking forward to her reaction to Telki's current brood. While she'd love the children unconditionally, Telki keeping such secrets might be a sore point.

At least she might stop gently hinting to her eldest that children were harder to conceive the longer one waited. Their mother was trying to steer her into the Khajiit caravans, which were as full of families as merchants and guards. Wemie could continue her life and build a family, since Nala was unlikely to pull her head out of her spellbooks long enough to make a relationship work even if she noticed someone not similarly preoccupied, and Ama...their mother had given Ama up to Baan Dar and sighed that at least Rihandi was sticking close.

Wemie growled. She  _really_ needed something to hit.

She wasn't expecting the answering growl from Mercutio. It made her quirk a rueful smile. "Needing something to hit?"

"It would keep me from thinking so much, yes." A quick Detect Life spell revealed no targets in the near vicinity. Such was his luck today. Mercutio was more than a little shaken to find himself in Romulus' family tree. It also raised the question of whether Sam was interested in him for himself, or because he saw him as an attainable extension of Romulus. It was not an easy or comforting thought, and he felt dirty for even having it in the first place. Yet it was an insidious worry that would not go away.

He really needed something to take his frustration out on, but the Imperial kidnappers were not cooperating. Typical.

**.**

* * *

**.**

After the fifth dead end, Gideon got the hazy idea he might should have waited for a guide. He had no idea where he was, and all the usual methods for getting his sense of direction were null and void where there were no stars, no sun, and no horizon. He was well and truly lost.

A dead man lay across the walkway when he turned the corner. From the outfit, he was one of the assassins. By the ligature mark around his neck, someone had beat him at his own game. Gideon studied the way the body fell and followed the path of the winner. It was as good a road sign as he was going to get in this moldy, crumbling place. The area beyond the corpse was better lit than anywhere he'd been since the Flagon, a mixed blessing that revealed crumbling mortar in the walkways and a long drop that vanished into blackness after a few stories. A glance upward produced the same, hinting that the area had mostly likely once been an airshaft. Water dripped past him as he watched; he never heard it hit the bottom.

The next recess in the tunnel held a door set into the thick stone, heavy and brand new, painted the same dark grey as the stone. Runes etched into the wood had been negated somehow, for they were simple decoration now. Another body slumped beside it, but other than that, there was no sign of anything amiss. Before he could open it, noise from further on caught his attention.

A group of Imperial agents rushed toward him from down the hall, the first of them skidding to a halt in surprise to see him there, before moving into a crouch, daggers out. The ones behind him drew their own weapons, and the man in back moved to the other walkway, drawing a bow.

Gideon took a moment to size them up. They weren't in any kind of formation he recognized, and there was a bit of jostling as they adjusted for position on the narrow space. Individual skill didn't count for much when there was simply no room to use it: His best strategy was to goad them into rushing as a body. Good old-fashioned paladin goading it was, then. "Well this hardly seems fair. Why don't you fellas go get a few more to help you? I'll wait right here." He gave them his craziest smile.

That seemed to unnerve them a little, and as he'd planned, they rushed forward in a mob, getting in each other's way. It was appallingly apparent that, however these men usually worked, they were not used to cooperating or compensating for each other. Still, in such narrow confines, they might still have bested him had he been the simple hand-to-hand fighter most people assumed. Wielding Shor's blessed hammer certainly had its benefits, especially when opponents were considerate enough to bottleneck themselves.

"Alright then, have it your way." Gideon hit them with a bolt from the hammer before they could reach him or any of them eel around to flank him, which would have placed him in a precarious position.

The men went down in a twitching, tangled mess, most of them managing to fall back towards the wall, though two twitched themselves right off the walkway altogether. One grabbed his chest and died on the spot, while the archer sent more arrows his way, trying to buy time for the rest to recover.

" _ **FUS RO DAH!"**_ The  _thu'um_ rang out, knocking the remaining assassins back and skidding them into the far wall or over the edge into blackness. The chamber shook slightly, making them all pause and exchange nervous glances before turning to run, the uncertain footing of the walkway crumbling beneath them. Gideon backpedaled hastily to the more reinforced floor near the door, watching as the masonry turned to rubble in an instant, taking the men down with it.

The paladin watched their fall with mixed feelings. On one hand, these were the same men who'd threatened his family and kidnapped Tyr's children. On the other, that was a hell of a way to die. There would be no Shor's Halls for them in any case, but that particular trip to Aetherius would be painful, especially if they survived impact. On a third, Telki was going to skin him. She'd told him to be careful of the Ratways. Of course, she'd meant the hammer, but she'd probably make little difference between that and the  _thu'um_  if it came down to it. Shaking his head at himself, he returned his attention to the door, hoping it led to a less precarious section of the Ratway.

Beyond the door he found an open hallway liberally studded with open doors, with a stair leading down through the archway at the other end. Gideon twirled his hammer as he followed the obvious trail, wary of more assassins. A cautious peep through the first doorway revealed supplies of all kinds. The other rooms were smaller, each with several bedrolls and a bucket he didn't bother to investigate. Obviously, this was where the infiltrators had made their base, and something had scared them out of it. Gideon mulled on that a bit.

The last door before the stair proved the place wasn't as abandoned as he'd assumed. Where a guard would normally be placed, a corpse slumped against the wall, no wounds visible on his front. Whatever had got him had come from the shadows. The room beyond him sported several more bodies, slumped over a table with a card game, none of them so much as reaching for weapons. It was enough to make him pity them, actually. He'd seen green from the farm Stormcloaks that fought better than some of these men, and it seemed these hadn't even been given a chance to defend themselves. Pausing long enough to give them Shor's final benedictions, he made his way down the stairs, wary of shadows.

Finally, he found a door so heavily runed, it might as well have spelled out 'kidnapped children here'. He didn't recognize most of them, but the silence rune was familiar: It got a lot of use on whatever door they usually slept behind. Gideon used his hammer to quietly push it open, on guard for whatever new enemy he faced.

The room was lit by a single, small light on a table to the right. Directly across from the door, a cell had been erected, so new the edges of the holes bore into the stone to hold the bars were rough and free of moss. Inside, Blossom and Orien and the baby horker were laid out in a neat row on the bed, so soundly asleep it was clear they were drugged.

A figure in a black cowl and half cape was at the door to the cell, turning an oddly shaped key in the lock. Shadows seemed to cling to the material of the armor, so that Gideon almost missed the person as his eyes slid right off them. Gideon stanced his feet and firmed his grip on the hammer. Whoever this was, they were skilled, and not to be underestimated.

"Step away from those children," Gideon rumbled lowly, "They're going home, not wherever else you might have planned." Shor alone knew who else wanted their very own Dragonborn Emperor.

The figure froze. Slowly, the key was pulled out of the lock, and the hand lowered to the side, clenched on the key, then relaxed, only to clench again.

Gideon eyed the figure curiously. He was willing to try negotiation if for no other reason than it was obvious this person wasn't with the Imperial thugs-for-hire. "So, what now? You're doing this whole mysterious thing. If you're going to attack me, can we please get on with it? A rather irate mother is inbound already. I'm sure you'd rather me than her."

The figure shook its head, and a familiar giggle wafted through the air, stopping his breath in his throat. Gideon had heard that giggle in every wistful dream for months. When his heart started thumping again, he was closing space rapidly. "Well, I see nothing much has changed there, at— _eep!"_

"Astounding how well it keeps working. Why fix what's not broken?" Gideon had her up in arms and kissing her before he finished talking, whispering the last half into her hair. "Missed you, woman. What's with all this?" He snapped the mask lightly against her face, teasingly.

Shell reached up to yank the fabric down. "I…uh…hi," she said, simply smiling at him as a million and one emotions clashed uncomfortably inside her, somehow managing to do so in a good way. Honestly, this man was so confusing. "I missed you too."

Gideon drank in her face like a starving man at a well. "Scared the hell out of me with that last letter. Had to get Erandur to ask Mara if you were alright. Sam is positively morose you sidestepped his mark, though. Prepare for sad Sam. Lots of sad Sam." He hadn't put her down and walked back to the lone chair to sit with her.

Shell snuggled into him with a sigh, resting her head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat thrum through them. She'd forgotten how good it felt—well, not forgotten, but memory never seemed to capture it fully. And now she might have screwed it all up. "Well, I…Nocturnal wasn't willing to share."

Gideon leaned back and laughed. "Neither is Rommy. I have the feeling you neglected to mention that particular link? Worse, he'll have Sam to help him. Nocturnal will give you back just to get some peace and quiet from those two." Gideon stopped, and his breath hitched. "If you want?"

"I didn't have a lot of time for bargaining," she complained, rolling her eyes and sitting up. "Anu, I forgot how big you are."

"Good I'm this big, or bad I'm this big? I'm sure Rommy'd adjust my height to your satisfaction if you asked him nicely."

Laughing, she brushed her fingers down his cheek, "I wouldn't change a hair on your head," she said. "Well, maybe this one," she wrinkled her nose at him and pretended to pluck one from his scalp. "There. All better."

"Thank Shor, I don't know what we'd do with that rogue hair running rampant. Think of the children." At which point he looked to make sure they were still sleeping. "Hmm, is it safe for them to still be asleep?"

"I checked what they were giving them. They'll be out for a few more hours, but they shouldn't come to any harm provided they aren't given much more of the stuff." Anger filled her features as she regarded them. "I don't know how they planned to keep them behaving as they got over the border. Idiots. That's probably why they brought Bacon. I can't imagine them bringing a pet along for any reason other than to be held against their good behavior."

"Makes sense. Threaten the pet, get the children's compliance. If they were normal children." Gideon kept one arm wrapped warmly around her middle, as the other ran lovingly over her back in soothing patterns he'd missed.

Shell snorted, "Blossom would have poisoned them all and been walking home within two days of the drug wearing off."

"I rest my case." Gideon rested his chin on her head. "You'll be keeping the armor, whatever you choose, right?"

Eyes twinkling, she sat up, tilting her head so her long hair fell out of the hood where she'd wound it, "See something you like,  _mellani?"_

"Everytime I think about you, yes." Gideon kissed her with all the pent up love he'd been fostering those long months she'd been gone. Shell melted into him as if she'd never left, all the feelings—conflicted and not—blurring together in her mind as she lost awareness of everything but him, arms coming up to wrap around him, and suddenly wishing her very flattering new armor was elsewhere.

Gideon groaned, and his strong arms tightened about her in a firm hug. "If we don't stop now, we won't, and now is neither the time nor place to finish this." Worried brown eyes searched hers for an answer. "Have you decided yet?"

"I have a few plans," she said, licking her lips nervously. "I can't tell you whether or not you'll approve."

Gideon pulled her back down to his chest, rocking her lightly. "No, see, you need to make your plans, to hell with whether you'll think I'll approve or not. Make them because you want them. If you want me to be a part of them, well, I won't say no, probably."

A mischievous grin crossed her face. "I want to open a Temple of Dibella and have you walk around half naked all the time."

"Only half naked? You have grown up. I'm very proud of you." Gideon kissed the top of her head as he teased back. "We must have Mercutio walk around, too. He'll bring in more worshippers."

"Nah," she smiled, kissed his nose—because she wouldn't stop if she kissed him properly—and hopped up. "There is something you can do for me, though."

"What do you need?" Gideon was instantly attentive, though it didn't stop him from a slight squeeze to a tempting cheek. He really liked the form fitting armor.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she opened them and gave him a somber look. "You carry the horker."

Gideon threw back his head and laughed loud and long. Shell smiled, thrilling at the sound, and returned to the cell door, positioning her body so that he didn't see the Skeleton Key—she'd broken far too many lockpicks on this damned thing—and opened the door, rushing in to check over the children. They'd looked fine from the door, but it still gave her a pang of anxiety, seeing them like that. Gently, she brushed her hands over them, Restoration magic sensing for anything amiss.

"I don't think they left her with anything sharp, but I'll take Blossom, just in case she goes from sleeping to reacting," she said, bundling the child up in the covers to ward away the chill. Doing the same to Orien, she held him for a moment, waiting for Gideon to lift the limp ball of lard and fur that would eventually become a fearsome beast.

"She let me cuddle her when you left that note for us. Even gave me a sweetroll from her stash," Gideon shared softly, cradling the horker in one arm to take Orien in the other.

Making the same sort of noise Min did when she was presented small animals, Shell stared at him with wide, somewhat moist eyes. "She did?"

"She also told me what ' _mellani'_  meant. You surprised her, too." Gideon kissed the tear away from her cheek.

"Little snitch," she said without rancor, reaching down and cradling the sleeping girl to her. Blossom lulled limply against her, and she adjusted her grip slightly. "Well?" she asked, lifting her chin and looking at him defiantly.

"Well? I've shared my heart from the beginning,  _mellani."_  Gideon took a breath and said slowly, pronouncing the words carefully. " _Tuis amofiol moeya_."

She couldn't speak for a very long moment, simply staring up at him with wide eyes that seemed a bit more prone to springing leaks than normal. "I love you too," she finally said, reaching up and wiping her face dry. "And yes, I do want to include you in any plans I make." Dawn breaking couldn't possibly be brighter than the smile that lit Gideon's face. Ring designs were dancing in his eyes.

"We should probably go," she said, unable to stop smiling at him, "Blossom got surprisingly heavy."

"Of course. Um. You'll need to lead us out."

"Got lost, did you?" she chuckled, lifting an eyebrow at him. "Or do you just want to admire how well this armor fits?" She twirled the half-cape over her shoulder and posed for him a moment before heading out the door. She'd taken out every Imperial she'd met between the Flagon and this hole, so she felt comfortable enough taking point.

"The armor is definitely a bonus to this rescue." Gideon would admit nothing else, upon pain of torture, or Shell teasing him.

"Halt criminal scum! Release the child…Oh, Gideon?" Wemie's strong voice ended on a high pitched squeak. How was she supposed to know there was another rescuer? The woman hadn't been in the Flagon earlier.

Shell was examining the Khajiit with some astonishment. Turning to Gideon, she asked accusingly, "Alright, why didn't you tell me Telki had close kin and does she like women?"

Wemie tilted her head. "You'll like Nala." Gideon had to juggle a moment to keep both Orien and the horker pup in his arms. His ears were a furious red. Wemie took pity on him and took the little boy. She ate horkers; she didn't carry them.

Dimpling up at him, Shell said lowly, "I love it when you do that," and turned back to examine Wemie. "So, I'm Shell. The tired ones are Blossom and Orien. I hear my mother is being frightening again. Care to walk with us?"

"My pleasure. Mercutio and Sapphire are with me as well. Perhaps we'll meet Fey on the return to the Flagon, and calm her ire somewhat?"

"Guildmaster? I didn't know you were here!" Sapphire's uncharacteristic behavior had Mercutio eyeing her somewhat speculatively. It was the most emotion she'd shown all night.

"Hey, Saffi," Shell said cheerfully. "Had to save my baby siblings from evil Imperials."

"Your…siblings? Oh this isn't going to go over well at all." Sapphire's darkening tone promised dire retributions.

"This is at least partially why I said we shouldn't let anyone rent without knowing what they're here for," Shell said firmly. "It may lose us some rent, but when it saves trouble, it really,  _really_ saves trouble."

"Guildmaster, huh?" Gideon gave her an appraising look.

She shrugged, secretly pleased. "It was a hostile takeover." Her grin showed her sharp canines as she added, "Very hostile."

"Which you will tell me all about, after we return home?" Gideon couldn't help the hopeful tone in his voice.

She paused, torn. "For a bit," she said, "I still have a lot to do here, but I will work this out."

Gideon smiled. "That's reassuring, actually. You really are finding your own place, and not just letting others decide for you."

"I've been sort of just going with things, really," she shrugged as they walked. "I didn't know where to start, so whatever came up, I just did. Or sometimes not," she shuddered, obviously remembering something specific. "Really, really not. I like this place, though, and I'm good at what I've been doing here. I mean, it's not entirely different from what I was trained to do, but I already admitted to you that I didn't exactly dislike my job, just who was dictating my actions."

"I remember." Gideon kept pace easily, thinking over his words. "If I recall, though, I mentioned ways you could use that, if you wanted to keep using those skills. My issue always was, and still is, that you did not have the opportunity to see if you liked it because you were making the best of a bad situation, or because you found real satisfaction in your work. Now you have a basis for comparison, yes?"

She thought about that a minute, "I'll admit, I did not try many things that didn't use those skills after the bakery incident," she wrinkled her nose. Shaking that off, she smiled at him over her shoulder. "But I think I like it here. I'm able to do some good things, and right some wrong things, and…I honestly don't think I could stay on the right side of the law if my life depended on it."

Gideon laughed at that. "No, I think that's asking too much of your nature. I love your nature, so no trying to curb it on my behalf." He stopped a moment, a teasing smile flitting across his face. "You know Telki spent some time in jail, too. It was in Markarth." He gave a mock sigh. "I guess I just have a thing for wild women."

"You must," she agreed cheerfully. "How is everyone?" the last was tinged with a hint of worry. Were they all alright? Were they mad at her?

"Wait a moment: Telki went to jail? What did she do? Pants a jarl?" Wemie had tried to stay out of what was obviously a couple talk, but they had to pull Telki in, and that was her baby sister, blast it.

Mercutio started laughing. "I thought she might, that one, Korrir, I think? But no. Markarth was corrupt, and we wound up helping do a little house cleaning." He was glad for a topic change. He had to admit, this Shell was a lot easier to accept than the previous versions he'd met. The previous versions made him want to dive for cover. This one? He could see the appeal.

Shell shivered dramatically. "Markarth. I really, really don't like that place. It's pretty bad when a former Thalmor goes to a Temple of Talos just for some peace and quiet," she paused, obviously thinking hard about something.

"You might find it a changed place. You do know it's under new management now?" Gideon offered. "All reports say Brighthand is doing, if not a great job, at least a decent job."

"Oh, I'm fine with the Forsworn," she said quickly, hoping to skip the story of how that alliance came about. "Really, all you have to do is be an elf and willing to wear their armor for them to pretty much give you a free pass through the hills." Gideon's mind stuttered to a halt, and needed a moment to catch back up. Shell, in Forsworn armor. He firmly had to tell himself this was not the time for those sort of ideas. He was suddenly glad for the damp and slightly chilly tunnels.

Knowing exactly what he was thinking, she gave him a slow wink. "I still have it," she informed him.

Gideon groaned, enchanting images dancing in his head. "You will be the end of me."

Mercutio, seeing Gideon's frustrated state, was always up for a bit of devilry. "Brighthand made sure Telki had a set, perhaps you and she can model them for us?"

Shell squealed, whirling to give Merc a delighted look. "I knew I liked you when I drove you up and down the sand dunes! That is the best idea I've heard all day!"

Even Wemie chuckled at the rather stunned expression Merc was wearing. "You  _liked_ me then?"

"Talon told me what you put up with to keep the rest of those idiots safe. Having that much power—disparate power—channeling through you can't have been easy. You're alright." She turned away with a careless shrug.

"I..uh…thank you?" Mercutio was so stunned, Wemie had to push his back a little to get his feet moving again. She was pretty sure a feather could knock the poor mage over. It had definitely been a day of surprises for him. She completely understood the feeling.

"What about you?" the Bosmer asked, giving Wemie the once-over.

"Ah, so you haven't heard yet. I wondered. I'm Telki's big sister. Name's Wemie. She has two more running around here someplace, Nala and Ama. They'll be easy to tell." Wemie studied her. "When you meet Ama, please, keep the mayhem to a dull roar?" Both Mercutio and Gideon shuddered. They hadn't thought of that. Amateurs.

The smile Shell gave her held enough mayhem to fill the Ratway. "Bit much, is she?"

"You've met Telki, yes? All that mischief, without the godlike luck. Sometimes, without the morals." Wemie shuddered to remember some of the scrapes she'd had to pull Ama out of.

"Oooh, is  _she_ into women?" Shell asked enthusiastically.

"No, that would be Nala, the other sister, and she's into both."

"How many sisters are we talking here?" Shell asked, "You mentioned two more running around, and Telki of course. Any more siblings back home?" She shimmied up a rotted looking ladder one handed with no apparent difficulty.

"Nay, there's a close cousin named Rihandi. He's like a brother to us." Wemie followed Gideon up the ladder, wondering how the devil the tricksy little Bosmer made it look so easily. She wasn't too happy with the Nord, either. She was a Khajiit, dast it, climbing was a racial right.

Turning to Gideon, Shell asked, "How do they all know we got the kids?" When Gideon turned to regard Sapphire, who'd managed to stay back in the shadows the entire time, and raised an eyebrow at her, she sighed in mock disappointment. "Left it up to us, hmm? Typical."

Gideon gave a nonchalant shrug with the shoulder not supporting a snoozing horker pup. "Can't think of everything every time."

Scoffing, she leaned over and knocked a rhythm into the pipe next to her. "That should do it." She added something else, and Sapphire snickered. Wemie, Merc, and Gideon all exchanged questioning glances. Apparently, it was a secret joke on them.

They walked a bit further before the terrain became more familiar, and Shell paused, glancing at Wemie to see if the Khajiit's ears had picked up the footsteps hers had. The twitching tips seemed to say yes, so did Wemie turning to watch that direction cautiously.

"Nocturnal's Nightingales! Turn this madwoman's children over already, Fox!" Half exasperation, half real fear, Vex rounded the tunnel in a breathless rush, clearing out of the stampeding elf's way. She pointed a sharp finger at her. "And that last bit better be true. I think I've earned it twice over tonight."

Fey and Tyr both ground to a halt when they saw them, startlement plain on their faces. "Uh…" Shell shifted uncertainly. "Hello, Mother."

"Mother?" Vex flinched against the wall in quickly covered surprise. She muttered under her breath to Sapphire. "Oh, so much makes more sense, now. Yep, that's three times over I've earned it. Think they can cover it?" Sapphire shook her own head, rolling her eyes.

"Shell?" Fey whispered, walking over in a more normal manner.

"Uh, here," looking down, Shell deposited Blossom into their mother's arms, backing away hastily. "She's fine. They're both fine. The drug will wear off in few hours, and they'll be groggy, and probably cranky so keep Blossom away from the cutlery, but it's nothing too harmful."

Fey's face was quiet as she examined her eldest, holding her baby girl close, "Is this where you've been,  _bellani?"_

"I've been around," Shell shrugged, avoiding Fey's eyes. It had been a rocky last…well, decade, with her mother since her uncle took her for apprentice. Now that she didn't have to wear a mask anymore, now that she didn't have to fool Ilmiyon that she was some weird, Bosmer copy of his dysfunctions, neither of them was quite sure what to do with the other. "Went back to Alinor for a bit. People, uh, say hello. Also, how the hell did we manage and all that."

Gideon visibly twitched. "You went back to Alinor?" A wealth of questions in that one alone.

"Of course," she said, watching Tyr take Orien off Wemie, holding the little boy so carefully it made her wistful. "How are the others supposed to know escape is possible if we don't tell them?"

Next thing Wemie knew, she had hands full of lardy fluff, and Gideon had swooped Shell into his arms again, kissing her exuberantly. Drawing back, he caressed her cheeks lightly with the pads of his thumbs, staring down into her face with wonder. "Every time I think I about understand you; you go and prove you're even more amazing than I thought." Shell blinked up at him in dazed surprise for a moment, then beamed at him.

Okay, call Wemie a sap, but seeing that was worth the price of admission, even if it was holding a fuzzcovered lump.

Tyr groaned, looking at Fey. "Nordic custom says I have to kick his ass. Dunmer custom says I have to frighten him—not sure if I should be doing that Ashlander style or not—and I don't really want to do either."

Mercutio shrugged. "Consider why those customs exist. Does Gideon really strike you as the sort to require either to do right by Shell?" Merc took half a moment before putting hands on hips and really warming up to his topic. "And I'd think helping break out of that hellhole was a pretty damn convincing 'Worthy Deed' already."

"You have a point, newfound kinsman," Tyr said happily. "I'll just get him drunk and threaten him. Something proper. Like…hurt her and what I do will pale against what the tiny child my wife is holding will do to his remains after my wife gets through with him."

Gideon huffed in exasperation. "As if Shell would leave anything for any of you to find."

"Valid point," was the couple's dry response, delivered in unison. "So," Tyr continued, violet eyes twinkling, "Let's carry our lost children back home. Pick her up Gideon; we're wasting time."

Gideon shook his head. Shell was up in his arms before 'time' cleared the man's lips. She let out a little happy cry and threw her arms around his neck, cuddling in. It was almost embarrassing how much she'd missed the man, honestly.

"It makes sense now," Vex was positively philosophical, "Why she was so standoffish."

Sapphire watched the two, head tilted in thought. "Maybe. They're making my teeth ache, though," she complained as they finally reached the back door to the Guild. The Flagon's dim light took on the illusion of brightness as it briefly cut into the Ratway's dingy corridors, a burst of subdued conversation humming over the sound of dripping water long enough for them to file inside.

"Lass, it seems you've been holding out on us." Brynjolf waited just inside the Flagon, feet propped casually on a table, arms folded across his chest. Wemie took a moment to appreciate a well formed man in some very flattering armor, even if she still kept the opinion of him being smarmy. It was a match to the set Shell/Fox wore. She wondered which she was supposed to call her.

"Brynjolf, I am secretly a runaway from a group of former Thalmor spies and this is my Treenord, his husband, his wife's sister, the next Emperor, and my mother, as well as the Aedric Baby of Cute, and the Daedric Princess of Stabbing. Oh, and their horker," she pointed to each as she introduced them.

Brynjolf's jaw descended to his chest and stayed there a moment. "You know lass, I tend to have a pretty good lie detector…damned if you didn't just break it." He shook his head. "So, let's cut to the chase, then. What does that all mean for the Guild?"

"For now, that I'll only be around…oh, about as much as I have been. I have a great track record for only coming in when I want to," she reminded him. "And don't try to guilt me into spending more time at work again; I pulled your ass out of a lake."

"Alright, alright, I know when I'm bested." Brynjolf thought a moment. "Still intent on your little web of informants? Are we picking a side after all? You're not dropping that in my lap, are you?"

"Oh, heck no. That is my baby project and you can rip it from my cold, dead hands," she huffed at the insinuation. "Besides," she added, relaxing a little, "I have more people than you know in that line of informants. They wouldn't trust you."

Brynjolf's brows knit. "How are you going to coordinate this web? Those things usually require a central coordinator, that's somewhat stationary?"

"Not necessarily," she said, tilting her head. There was more than one way to spin a web, as she'd both been trained and surmised, "but I'll think about it." She snuggled down further into Gideon's arms, finally feeling somewhat warm. He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her lightly in comfort. They looked as giddily moonstruck as a pair of courting teenagers.

Business dealt with, Brynjolf finally decided to appraise his competition, taking in the relaxed, affectionate air about the normally somewhat reserved Fox and immediately declaring 'no contest.' Had he realized she was actually in love with someone he wouldn't have bothered with his casual advances. Still, teasing was in order. "Damn lass, no wonder I didn't stand a chance. I honestly didn't know there were any giant crossbreeds still out there."

Gideon tisked at him. "And here I heard you were a quick one. I expected better, not an old saw I've heard a dozen times before I was out of short pants."

"I recall having to sew you some pants that weren't so small, so that was fairly recently," Shell teased, tapping the tip of his nose.

"Hey now, you're supposed to defend me, not help the rival." Gideon stopped, and then a beatific smile spread over his face, lighting up the Flagon like sun after the rain. " _You_  sewed those clothes for me? Even then?"

Blushing, aware that the Guild was starting to notice she was back, and there was an awful lot of elbow nudging and some smirking and she was so,  _so_ glad Delvin was out… "Well, you did say you were chaffed to uselessness," she mumbled.

"Shell," Gideon nudged her, nose to nose, "I love you."

Smiling again, she leaned up and kissed him soundly, not caring that now half the Guild that wasn't cheering or making rude suggestions was collecting their jawbones from where they'd clattered to the floor. " _Tuis amofiol moeya, mellani,"_ she murmured against his lips. He rumbled it right back at her, nibbling those lips and deepening the kiss until they both had to come up for air.

Tyr shifted uncomfortably, going over to a bench to sit with Orien, laughing a bit when Telki's sister thrust Bacon at him as well. Fey settled next to him, watching her eldest and undeniably-future-son-in-law with speculative eyes. A hint of a smile played along her lips and she caught him looking. After a moment, he got over his awkwardness to smile back. Shell looked happy, and it relieved Fey. She'd never thought she'd get to see it. Best case scenario, Shell would have had children as she had done, with someone she was instructed to, raising them and loving them in secret. If she was very, very lucky, she would have fallen for another Young One, one accomplished enough that she could request him as a permanent partner, or he might have requested her, and neither would have been told to execute the other to prove who was more skilled. Worst case, she could have become a monster like her uncle, and went through life barren of even feelings, let alone love.

No, he could certainly understand Fey's joy.

A very subdued Delvin led a very infuriated Nala and a darkly amused Galmar into the Flagon. Her frustration fled upon seeing the adorable little ones, and she even cooed over the horker. The Bosmer woman being cuddled by Gideon, however, got an entirely different look, encompassing 'damn, girl' to 'what are you doing in my sister's husband's lap?' Since Wemie had detached neither heads, she'd wait for a final edict from Telki before flambeing them both.

Speaking of the daedra, Telki and Rommy, arm in arm, were talking rather animatedly with Etienne as they entered the Flagon. All three of them stopped suddenly to see Gideon seated at a table with Shell curled up in his lap. Telki squealed, making her sisters jump. It was the exact same squeal they heard on their arrival. What. The. Daedra. "Shell!"

"Telki!" the Bosmer squealed right back, holding up one arm. "Come join me so I don't have to get up!"

"Don't mind if I do." Thank heavens Gideon had lots of practice catching airborne Khajiit. Rommy snickered at the pure shock going through the room. He almost wished Sam was there; this was the kind of thing he loved.

"Sooo, how far have plans developed?" Telki snuggled into Gideon's shoulder, and booped Shell's nose. "Love the armor, what does it mean that you're wearing the same as Bryn?"

Giving her a totally serious look, Shell replied, "We were kidnapped by the Altmer shopkeepers in Solitude and now we can't get it off."

"Those harridans." Telki decided to play along, face just as deadly serious. "Maybe we should swap all their inventory out for sackcloth. Teach them to mess with my sister-to-be."

"Oh, well," Shell flushed. "They're sort of…clients of mine. Not…not this, something else, so…I'd like them to still be able to pay for things." She was not sure when she started stuttering so much. She used to sound suave as Brynjolf. Then again, she used to constantly have to play people off each other and divert attention from her motives, and she was no longer playing that game.

"Can I at least prank them? Their expressions when they see the sackcloth ought to be priceless."

"As long as they don't connect me to it," Shell grinned. That was something she wouldn't mind seeing herself. Then she pouted, "You didn't tell me you had sisters! Completely not fair; you met my sisters."

"Honey, not even the husbands knew I had sisters until they showed up on my front steps."

Shell blinked in surprise, "Really? That seems rather…I mean, you seem very open about everything else. I would have pictured you talking about them all the time, rather than the opposite." She flushed, "But then, I don't know a whole lot about families."

"Shell, I have a gab, I know I can't filter it, and as many Daedric toes as I stepped on, you think I'd let them know I have family? So, I did the only thing I could. I didn't talk about 'em at all." Telki glared at her sisters. "And then they showed up anyway."

Laughing, Shell leaned over and turned Telki's face back toward her, "That's sisters for you. Don't be too mad at them; I'd probably drop in on Blossom or Pearl if they left me out of most of their lives, too."

Telki turned troubled eyes on her sisters. "I just didn't want this whole mess landing in their laps. I was tryin' to protect them." The comforting squeeze from Gideon helped enough Telki could face her sisters fully. "I wasn't trying to leave you out of my life, but protect you from it."

"Lovely sentiment, Sis, but one, not your call to make, and two, not worth it. We'd rather have you." Nala pushed a hank of wavy hair behind her twitching ear. "Next time, it'll cost you a bolt to the rear."

Not able to help the snicker that came out, Shell glanced between Telki and Nala, wondering what it was like to have a sister so close in age. Looked complicated. She was looking forward to teasing the Khajiit about it. She snaked an arm back around Gideon, who was enjoying having his arms full too much to have an opinion. His eyes were closed, a blissful smile in place, and leaned back against the table, the picture of contentment. Shell snickered again: Despite not being the Khajiit of the three, he looked the most like the cat that got the cream.

The door opened again, a very conflicted Vipir preceding Ama and Talon, who had a rather frightened and defiant Imperial slung over his shoulder, tied hand and foot in a strange, complicated way.

"Well, hello, who's this Gideon's getting all cuddly with, and Telki's not ripping to shreds?" Ama took in the relieved parents cuddling cute littles, and a horker pup? There had to be a story there, but the biggest story would be the Bosmer all cuddled with Gideon. She did not know sharing was on the table. "I mean, I distinctly remember you biting me for touching Flufflepuff."

"I was three! And you were threatening to toss her in the stream!" Telki pouted and crossed her arms, giving everyone a hint of what that pouty three year old must have looked like. "Toy sheep do not float."

Talon repressed a sigh, then decided hell with it, and actually sighed aloud. Shell looked very proud. "Despite what you all may think, this man is not made of tundra cotton. If we could please leave?"

"But you make it looks so effortless, Muscles," Ama smiled at him. "There's a nice clear spot in the middle of the floor. Dump him there. Extra points if you can make him bounce a couple times."

"I do not intend to start hurting him yet," Talon replied after a moment of simply regarding her, going over possible responses in his mind. These women were going to be the death of his patience, Telki, Shell, and even little Blossom included.

"Can I play with him?" Shell asked, peeking at him curiously. "If Mother does it, there won't be enough left to question." Besides, as of that afternoon, they were behind on rent.

"I have better control of myself than that," Fey replied, looking slightly insulted.

Tyr was smothering laughter, which stopped quickly as the horker started wiggling. "I think these three will be waking up soon, anyway."

Ama looked at the trussed man on Talon's shoulder. "You are in very very deep trouble. We know why you took the kids, we just need to know who's funding you. The sooner you tell us, the sooner the hurting stops."

"I believe he knows this already," Talon replied, glancing over at Rommy, who had been observing all this quietly. His eyes were glowing so brightly he looked like he had Nighteye. "Romulus? Would you mind conveying him first?"

Telki looked over to Rommy, and immediately vacated premises to shore up Romulus' side. "You alright?" she asked lowly.

"Perfectly fine," he assured her, eyes flickering down to hers momentarily. "Let's get outside first," he told Talon, who nodded. The pair walked out without further ado, earning a rather worried look from Tyr.

"I don't think I've ever seen that look on his face before," he muttered. After a moment, he added, "Are mage's eyes supposed to glow like that?"

Fey shrugged, "Perhaps he has elf in him, too? Or Khajiit?"

"I thought he was full Imperial," Tyr said, glancing at Merc, who also looked full Imperial. "I mean, I know he's stupidly powerful, and he talks like an old man half the time, but glowing eyes? Is it a spell?"

"That's Rommy's story to tell when he's ready." Telki was tapping her teeth, torn. She was worried about Rommy. She wanted to go out there, and she didn't want Rommy to look at her guilty for what he had to do to get what they needed. What was the right thing to do?

"Wait; there's a story?" Tyr's eyes were a bit wide as he looked over at her. "A story, as in Things To Tell?"

"Yep, and you, at least, should be getting the full disclosure soonish," Telki assured him, and then headed topside after the men. To hell with it, she was worried, and she wanted to be there if Rommy needed her.


	6. ...Let the Great Axe Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to take the kiddles home, rest up, interrogate and execute people. And carry some Khajiit around.
> 
>  

The sound of water lapping against the sides of the canal and the barks of vendors up above were all that greeted Telki as she emerged from the Ratway, looking around for Rommy and Talon. The sky was somewhat overcast, and the water of the lake dark and grey. Green moss hung limply down in front of the Ratway entrance, looking like it wanted to die. The flowers peeking over the side of a pot beside the Honorhall doorway seemed to share that opinion.

A few too many worrisome minutes later, the swarm of butterflies returned, swirling into Rommy beside her on the dock, unsurprised to see her and walking right into her open arms. "Sorry. I didn't want to leave until Ulfric had him secure and I made Talon promise no one would touch him until we got back."

"Hmm, I worried about you. Tyr will also be expecting that explanation soon. You let a little too much Sheo through in there. Your eyes were shining." Telki rubbed her hands up and down his back. "S'one reason I worried."

He cursed, running his hand through his hair in his habitual gesture of stress. "I was hoping to avoid that for a few more…ever."

"I know love. I know. But he's kin, and he deserves to know. And you, mister," Telki snuggled in close, and poked his chest, "need to know your family will love you anyway, Sheo or no Sheo. I mean, if my loveable lumps can love you anyhow, how can you worry your own kiddoes won't?"

He glanced away, sighing. "Who do you think should go back next? I can probably take Tyr or Fey and both kids, but not both. Not right now—I'm having to work to keep the butterflies blue."

"Hmmm, nope. Not wearing you down again. Besides, you guys promised me." Telki's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Where oh, where, oh where's my Sammy? Where, oh where, oh where's my Sammy?"

Rommy goggled at her as Sam appeared on the walkway above, overbalanced and fell into the canal. He promptly bobbed back up, floating on his back and staring at the clouds. "Now if only this were beer," he muttered.

"Oh Sam, I already knew you were all wet," Telki giggled at him. "Get up here, we have some news about your Muffin. Dry off if you want a hug."

Sam frowned in confusion and Rommy bent down to help pull him out. Predictably, he was dry before he was standing, swaying on his feet as he opened his arms. Telki gave him a hug; Rommy caught his hands when they got a little too low for his peace of mind. "Ready? Mercutio's related to Rommy."

Sam blinked, looked puzzled, blinked again, then looked at Rommy. "Is it the Hist sap, or did she just say you and— _hic!—_ Muffin were related?" Telki nestled back into Rommy's side and let the giggles begin.

"They are! Merc was there when the kin spell went off to find where they were hiding the munchkins. Merc lit up like a spriggan eating nirnroot mixed with glowmushroom."

"That's, ah, a lot of glowing," Sam didn't seem to know what to think, or possibly was simply too inebriated to think. He looked back to Rommy. "Really?"

Rommy nodded and gave a half shrug. "Out of Aviese's line."

"Oh, the bitchy one. I really could have loosened her up, you know," he sighed.

"But then  _you_  might have been related to Merc, and we'd all be feeling very weird right about now," Rommy pointed out.

"Sam, you're going to have a feels fest with Merc about this, you know. If you get confused or anything, let me help, okay?"

The Daedra of Debauchery perked right up, "Sounds good," he said, making grabby hands.

" _Emotions,_  Sam.  _Emotions_. Merc's all kinds of unsettled by this, and you're going to have to deal with his emotions. You told me you don't do those so well. I can help with those." Telki swatted the back of his hand. "You can have non-gropey hugs whenever."

"Hey," he slurred, "I handled the Lydia thing okay."

"Oh Dear Mara, you did? When? How? Does she need a poison cure?"

Waving that off, he sank down onto the edge of the dock, standing apparently quite difficult for him at the moment. "About a month ago. We drank, we talked, I invited her to play, there was some kissing, then we decided to invite Merc before more kissing happened…good talk."

Telki was impressed, and ruffled his hair. "You did good, Sam. I am proud of you." He leaned back into her hand like an affectionate cat, closing his eyes. Rommy shook his head, eyes finally starting to dim as he watched his friend's antics. Telki grinned, and then gave him a proper scalp rub. "But seriously, watch for it. He may try to hide his worries, 'kay? And…are you here enough to make a port back to Windhelm for the whole gang? Oh! We have a Shell! I think she and Gideon maybe have their issues sorted." She turned to Rommy, "Any other news I'm forgetting?"

"Shell?" Sam's red eyes popped wide open. "Not-So-Bitsy-Bosomer?" He jumped up and ran down into the Flagon.

Rommy gave Telki an amused look. "I think he missed her," he said, offering his arm.

"I think you might be right. Oh dear, my knees feel weak, carry me?" Telki gave him her most teasing smile as she leaned hard into him.

"Well," he smirked at her, "if you're having that much trouble, I could always shrink you and put you in my pocket."

"Pfft, where's the fun in that? I want cuddles. Gimme." Telki budged under his arm and snuggled into him.

A strange expression crossed his face, then he looked a bit sheepishly at her as he stepped back. "One moment," he said, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a tiny, shivering Khajiit in Guild leathers. "Sticky fingers here reached inside earlier, so I sort of just helped him in."

"Rommy, should I be jealous? Letting other Khajiit ride in your pockets! I'm telling Murril," Telki tisked at him, then fixed a stern gaze on the little thief. "Just so's you know, we're family with your Guildmaster. No touchie. That goes for all my homes, my housecarls, my kids, and my people. Understood?"

"Off limits!" the tiny Suthay said in a high, irritatingly panicked voice, "This one understands! Please return this one to his proper size!"

"Rommy, please? Shell probably won't be happy with you permanently miniaturizing her guildies."

Holding his arm over the canal, Rommy let go, the Khajiit becoming his normal size again just before he hit the water. "Amature," he muttered.

"Darling, I doubt any normal could sneak past you these days, no matter the level of skill." Telki cuddled in close.

Rommy handed her a small bit of cloth she always kept in her innermost pocket. "I've been able to do that since I was fourteen," he said, then really looked at it. "What is this, anyway?"

"It's from my dad. He died a few months before I came to Skyrim. Still miss him, sometimes." Telki narrowed her gaze at her fiance. "Sneaky pete." She shook her finger at him. "Absolutely no peeking when I'm hiding Solstice or birthday presents."

Giving her a little grin, he pulled her forward and kissed her, letting his lips linger and pulling her close. "I make no promises," he chuckled when they came back up, breathless. "Shall we go see how much trouble Sam has gotten into?"

"Still want you to carry me, just because. Please?" Telki batted her lashes when she pouted at him.

Heaving a heavy, exaggerated sigh, he swooped her up into his arms, carrying her into the Ratway. Behind them, the Khajiit clambered his way out of the canal, making a mental note to never, ever mess with Fox's family. Apparently, she wasn't the scary one, after all.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Nala eyed Gideon with Shell still wrapped in his arms speculatively, going over the various ways to broach her subject carefully.

That, apparently, never even crossed Ama's mind. "Okay, the sharing thing, how does that work? Because we thought the hubbies were off limits."

Shell glanced up, startled, then laughed. Wrapping her arms around Gideon and wiggling in the way that always made his cheeks and the tips of his ears pink, she gave the pretty Khajiit a mischievous look. "I'm tenacious."

"Oh, you're tenacious, are you?" Gideon breathed the words softly in her sensitive ear, rumbling his chest just for her benefit, and pinched her backside in retaliation for all the squirming she'd done on his lap. Fair's fair, after all.

"It is one of my many endearing qualities," she chuckled, jumping a little. Catching the woman's skeptical look, she shrugged. "I…sort of stabbed my way in, I think. Or maybe it's because I fed him. Hard to tell."

"Or maybe, someone was intrigued by my ridiculous height, and I held out for something that meant more than just a night's tumble in the sheets," Gideon nipped her ear, and squeezed her close. "Definitely worth it."

Shell's eyes popped open wide before she lolled in his arms, boneless as a Khajiit, a pleasant shudder going through her. Slanting him a look halfway between "take me to the bedroom" and "don't make me stab you," she wondered if he knew exactly what doing that to her ears did, or if he'd somehow managed quite by accident. Sometimes, it was very difficult to tell with him, but this certainly wasn't the place to turn to jelly. "It was more your butt than your height, Treenord."

"Is that why it's one of the few places without a mark from your daggers? Besides, you don't call me 'buttnord,'" he teased back.

"I don't leave marks unless I mean to," she replied with as much dignity as being squeezed afforded her. "And when I mean to, it's usually not my daggers that make them, Buttnord."

"Hmm, seems I should have counted my blessings, Bitsy."

Nala delicately cleared her throat. She wondered if those two had managed to forget they had an audience. Considering the sniggering going on amongst the thieves, well, the ones whose jaws weren't scraping the floor, it was time someone reminded them. "So, um, is there an application, or what? Because, um…well. You know what? I'll ask Telki." Nala decided to get some fresh air. How was the Ragged Flagon this warm, anyhow?

She'd just started opening the door when it burst inward, pulling it right out of her hand as a familiar Breton in a black robe ran in, stared around with wild reddened eyes that lighted on Gideon and Shell. Squealing suspiciously Telki-like, he raced across the Flagon, unbothered by rough stone, uneven planks, or even water, until somehow he tripped just a few feet from them, landing face downwards in her chest. "Mmmmmm," he sighed, arms around both of them and hands disappearing suspiciously low around Gideon's middle.

"Sam!" Gideon's howl was nearly rafter rattling. He shoved Sam off, hard, nearly rolling him into the open water in the Flagon. Three small, intricate daggers were sticking out of his torso in various places, apparently not hitting anything vital, since he was still moving—at least, as far as those not in the know were concerned.

He gave Shell and Gideon a sappy grin. "I really missed you two. It's like a wine, it is. Hug me." Another dagger appeared in his thigh, very close to his groin. "Or we could get— _hic!—_ reacquainted later. I see you're busy," he added.

Shell was glaring at him with narrowed eyes. "No touching without  _explicit_ permission," she said coldly, suddenly looking very like her mother and yanking all the daggers out with a single Telekinesis spell, the four small, needlelike weapons fitting nicely in her palm. She cleaned them on a piece of cloth and stuck it away for later. One never knew when Daedra blood would come in handy.

"Sam, are you going to need a heal for that?" An underlying roughness gave lie to the idle snark Mercutio was attempting as he pulled Sam up from his sprawled position.

"I'm pretty self— _hic!—_ mending, Muffin, but if you  _want_ to cast a spell or dozen on me I do love the feel of your magicka," Sam leaned on him a little more than was necessary.

"Never had the healing knack, I'm afraid. All I have are the heal potions Telki insists I carry."

Sam shuddered, "That's…that's alright. You can hit me with— _hic!—_ lightning again later, though."

"That was one time, and it was Telki, not you, years ago. Though Rommy was telling me some interesting uses for sparks." Mercutio huffed, "You don't behave, I won't show you."

The mischievous look Sam gave him was fairly dark. "You really don't have any idea half the stuff you do when you're drunk, do you?"

"I…uh? What?" Now Mercutio was confused and worried. "Oh hell, Sam. What'd I do?"

"Cute things," Sam waved that worry off. "Don't worry about it."

"Sam, please. That was neither the face nor the tone you use for cute things. I've watched you with Blaise."

"You are very— _hic!—_ very cute," Sam informed him, giving him a squeeze and leaning on him just a little more. "Even sober."

Shell was staring at them in complete and utter shock. Glancing back at Gideon like she wasn't quite sure she hadn't actually wandered into Rommy's realm, she jerked her head at the pair with a questioning look. Was the Imperial really getting himself involved with the  _Daedra of Debauchery?_  She wasn't sure whether she should feel impressed with his bravery, or lower her estimation of his intelligence.

"No, really, sitting you all down and hearing the rules of engagement is going to be a hoot. Who's bringing the snacks?" Wemie couldn't keep her dry observation to herself.

"I'll make the snacks," Rommy volunteered, walking in with Telki snuggled up in his arms. "And it appears at least three of the girls get to be carried back. Granted, one of them is five and sleeping, but still. Gentlemen, why aren't you volunteering?" he joked.

"I have a little boy and a horker," Tyr called back. "I'm set."

"I'll carry Muffin!" Sam hollered happily, leaving Mercutio flabbergasted. There were pretty girls Sam hadn't gotten hands on, and he offered to carry him? He wasn't sure if his jaw was coming up off the floor soon.

Shell glanced at him then paused, raising her eyebrows. "Might want to close that, sweetie. Your tongue's getting dusty."

Wemie kindly closed it for him with an audible click. Sam chuckled and muttered about how cute he looked with that poleaxed expression. Mercutio felt his cheeks heat up, but his tongue still felt like lead in his mouth.

Wemie decided to help, "But Sam, if you carry him, that leaves two girls walking. Where's your gentlemanly," he raised an eyebrow at her, "wait, nevermind."

"Dang, I was hoping to catch a ride," Nala pouted.

"You and me both, sister," Ama sighed. Wemie shook her head at their antics. Ama lightly shoved her shoulder. "Did you think I'd pass up half a chance to be carried by one of these guys? Have you looked at them? I swear, all the pretty in Tamriel decided to move to Skyrim."

"Well if you want something done right," Galmar hoisted both girls amid whoops and shrieks, one tiny Khajiit in each beefy arm, "might as well do it yourself." Nala and Ama eyed each other speculatively with a very 'now what' wide eyed look.

Rommy's eyes flickered down to Telki. "He's growing on me," he whispered, chest rumbling with laughter.

"Tolja," Telki couldn't help but snicker back.

"I'll carry one of you," Delvin volunteered, crossing his arms and leaning against a post, eyes fixed on the last sister standing. Wemie raised an eyebrow, and then started cleaning her claws with her dagger. His eyes went a bit wide and he shifted uneasily.

Vex snickered. "Why Delvin, I didn't know you were in such a hurry to meet the High King. Very brave of you."

"Er…" the thief looked cagy, glancing around. "Um…how's that ship working for you, Rommy?"

Smirking, Romulus inclined his head genteelly. "Quite well, Delvin, thank you. It certainly brightens up that corner of the museum." His eyes twinkled as he glanced at Sam. "Candlehearth again, please?"

"You know, there is more than enough mead in the guard room to count," Sam revealed. "How do you think— _hic!—_ Ulfie would like us all stampeding out of the basement?"

"I like it," Rommy replied, eyes flashing amber with mirth. He didn't dislike Ulfric nearly as much as he'd used to, but by no means was he passing up a chance to drive the jarl a little batty.

"I wonder if Ulfric had any idea the crazy he was letting into his life, when he made me family," Telki snickered into Rom's comfy shoulder.

Three pairs of eyes zeroed in on Telki. "Say what?"

"Um, surprise? We've been adopted by Skyrim's High King? I mean, not legally, but friends are family, right?"

"Did he know it was a four for one sale?" Wemie pinned Telki with a sardonic eyebrow.

Tyr raised his eyebrows, watching Telki's sisters with a great deal of amusement, "Don't go too far down the adoption path: He's single," he called. Fey elbowed him.

"Is he, now?" Wemie drawled, crossing her arms. Her shenanigan senses were tingling.

"Very," Tyr confirmed, giving her a toothy grin.

"Particular reason you're egging me on to chase Ulfric?" Wemie wasn't eldest for nothing. She'd seen that same mischief too many times on Nala's face when tattling on Ama.

"Because he's married to his work and I think it'd be funny," Tyr admitted without a fight.

Wemie shuddered. "You and my sisters are never to be unchaperoned. Ever. The cosmos would explode."

Rommy and Tyr exchanged looks. "I sense a story," Rommy said. Tyr nodded, eyes twinkling mischievously. Fey sighed and went through a breathing exercise.

"The last time I saw that expression Tyr's wearing, Ama got tired of leading Telki on the pony, tied her to it, and left her in the pasture alone."

Tyr glanced at Telki, "If you still desire revenge for that, you can borrow Betsy."

"I turned her bed into a tadpole refuge, water and all," Telki admitted, leaving both Wemie and Ama gaping.

" _You_  did that?" Shrill squeals in unison left poor Telki's ears flattened, but unrepentant.

Tyr was nearly falling off the bench laughing. Shell sighed, watching all this with a sort of rueful happiness. Glancing up at Gideon, she said, "As much as this warms my poor shriveled heart,  _mellani,_ I am running a business here. Perhaps we can chivvy them out of the middle of it?"

"As my lady wishes. Although," Gideon's eyes twinkled merrily at her, "Just think, you signed up for this familial madness willingly."

Alarm crossed her face briefly, then she shook her head. "I'll adapt. Sam!" she called, catching the Daedra's attention. "I don't much care if it's the inn or Ulfric's basement, get this madness out of my Guildhall so these reprobates can get back to drinking—I mean, working!" She transferred her gaze to Rommy, "And you're buying their next round."

Rommy raised an eyebrow, but carried Telki over to the bar and materialized a large coinpurse in his pocket, simply leaving it on the countertop. Wasn't like someone that could mint their own money couldn't afford it.

"But it's the best entertainment we've had down here in ages, sure they have to go just yet?" Vipir called from where he was holding up the back wall. He was still hoping to get a little better acquainted with Ama.

"Do you want me to send you back to Winterhold?" Shell threatened.

"Nooo, nope, I'm good. See you when you get back, boss." Vipir shuddered, but gave her a cheery wave off.

"Whatever," Sam shrugged, swung the still-reeling Merc up into his arms, and strode for the back door, opening it to show Ulfric's guardroom, with several gaping guards that didn't know whether to draw, run, or give up on booze.

"Hi guys, just me and mine on our way to see Ulfie. Have fun!" Telki waved from Rom's arms cheerily.

"I'm going to annex this place yet," Rommy muttered, walking through portal, room, then hallways, climbing the stairs to emerge into the throne room, scaring Ulfric's steward, who he wasn't sure he liked anyway.

"Hi Jorlief, Ulfric in his War Room?" Telki gaily called from Rom's cozy arms.

"Yes, of course. He's been waiting for your return."

Tyr and Fey emerged from downstairs, the twins starting to shift a bit in their arms as the drug wore off. The horker was already wide awake and honking loudly, not liking being carried and being dry.

"Do I hear the sounds of a successful rescue?" Ulfric stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, imposing face in place, except for telltale crinkles around his eyes.

"Aye, Bacon letting all and sundry know she wants her bath and her fish." Galmar grunted as he set the girls down, pouts and all, as he took the restless horker from Tyr.

"Thank you," Tyr said with relief. Two wiggling littles were more than he could comfortably handle.

"Did he really just trade us off for a horker?" Ama snickered.

"Honestly, I don't know if my ego can take that sort of beating," Nala dryly confirmed.

"I was getting tired of her bellyaching anyways," Galmar patted the calming pup's back and eyed the twins. "I'll just go get her settled, so she'll be ready to play with Orien when he wakes up."

Fey unbent enough to grace the man with one of her unconsciously dazzling smiles. "Thank you, Galmar. Orien will want to know she's taken care of as soon as he wakes. I'm glad we'll be able to tell him you assisted."

Galmar, for once at a loss for words, simply nodded to her and quickly made his escape. Rommy and Tyr both snickered. Fey gave them an amused look, then suggested sweetly that they get the children into bed. Tyr, ever aware of her moods, raised an eyebrow and followed her from the room.

"Well, this place is as stupidly freezing as I remember," Shell grumbled to Gideon as they emerged into the room. Gideon swirled his cloak around to cover her better.

Telki poked Rommy's shoulder. "Got another one of those amulets handy, handsome? Might need one for Blossom and Orien too, come to think of it."

"It might be better to just enchant all their clothing. I don't think they're much into jewelry at their age, and I sort of think Shell's planning on Gideon keeping her warm," Rommy said, greatly amused. "I'll make him something pretty to give her. Want to help me come up with it?"

"Ooh, I do indeedy like the way you think." Telki kissed the chin that was right there tempting her. "Yes, please, and thank you."

"I do hope you plan on questioning the prisoner before you go off to design jewelry," Talon said, abruptly there in his usual manner and radiating a faint sense of disapproval.

"Ooooh, you want me to question him?" Telki thought about that a moment, turning to face Rommy. "I dunno what to think, that Talon thinks I can pull off intimidating. Or is it scary? Maybe he thinks I can irritate the information out of him?"

Talon's cheek twitched slightly, and Rommy chuckled, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, then put her down. "I think this might be more my area," he told her.

"Want some moral support?" Telki asked, worried. "I don't mind providing backup or just a reminder if you need it."

"It's fine. Why don't you fill father-figure in on what happened, since the proud parents ran off?" he suggested.

"Oh, yeah, and the whole sister thing," Telki huffed, then looked over at Talon. "You'll send someone for me if things get too hairy in there?"

He considered her for a moment. "If they get too hairy for my first and second other choices," he finally said.

Telki gave Talon an odd look. "Um, Talon, lemme put it this way; if his eyes get bright enough to read by, come get me."

The mer tilted his head slightly, a new respect entering into his eyes. "You assist with that?"

"Yeah. See anyone else stepping up to keep my darlin' grounded?" Telki snuggled into Rommy's arms. "Which is hilarious, considering everyone else thinks me flighty."

"You are not flighty," Talon said firmly, "merely unconventional."

Wemie, Nala, and Ama all turned to give Talon a very considering look, and their quiet conversation resumed, this time with more of those looks his way.

"Awww, Talon." Telki could feel herself blushing. "You are in danger of getting hugged again. That was so sweet!"

"It is rare for someone to be taken for what they really are, Telki," he said, giving her a piercing look, "You let it bother you far too much."

"And that's going to be a looong talk, m'dear. Perhaps we can save it for after we get the information we need from Impie in a hogtie?"

"It won't take me long," Rommy assured her with complete confidence.

"Okay, I just, don't like it when this sort of stuff gets to you." Telki was not pouting and not grousing, not even a little. So what if she was fixing his collar for the third time?

Stepping back and catching both her hands, he pressed a quick kiss to her fingers, then stalked out to where they had left the prisoner. He'd rather Telki didn't see this, actually—it was never pretty, having a Mad God sort through someone's head. He didn't want to hurt the man, but he didn't want to risk him lying or omitting anything, so he'd just decided to take what he wanted to know right out of his head. He'd probably end up in the Isles afterwards, if Ulfric didn't order him executed.

"So, now what?" Wemie looked about, no one had come forward to introduce them, show them where they should go, or anything, simply leaving them standing, rather stupidly to her mind, there in the Great Hall. There were more sweets laid out on the banquet table than she thought all the kids in Honorhall could eat. It made her smile to think 'the Bear of Eastmarch' had gone soft on a pair of halfelven children.

"I dunno, they leave me standing here long enough, I'll start meddling about on my own," Ama smirked.

"Oh no you don't. You are not getting me kicked out of here before I've a chance to meet Wuunferth. That man's forgotten more magic than most of Winterhold ever knew," Nala poked Ama with a severe finger.

"Heeey sissies, ready to go meet the High King?" Telki draped herself between Nala and Ama, beaming up at the exasperated expression, there it goes, Wemie was bound to sport.

"Telki, did you adopt all of Skyrim?" Wemie asked, as she let lead them all towards the War Room.

"Not quite, I threw Erikur back." Telki was now nearly leaning horizontally, pulling them all along. "Hey Ulfie! I brought my sisters to meet you!"

There it was. The patented fingers massaging the bridge of his nose pained expression pleading for patience. It always warmed the cockles of Telki's heart.

"Ah yes, the sisters I knew nothing about until now. Why is that?"

"Enemies can't attack what they don't know is there," Telki told him primly. "This is Wemie, my oldest sister, and this is Nala and Ama. We're the triplets."

Ulfric eyed them all. "Are you going to run me as mad as this one has?"

"I probably won't, these two might. Eh, stick Nala in a library tower, and she might not. Depends on how many explosive volumes you have in there. Ama, tie her in a sack when she gets too fractious." Ulfric laughed at Wemie's answer even as Ama swatted at her sister.

"I can see now this Palace will never again have a dull day. Welcome to the family."

**.**

* * *

**.**

Telki paused in the doorway, worried. Mercutio sat on the bed, a carefully blank expression on his face. Of her husbands, she often thought Mercutio the most emotionally vulnerable, and that was after taking Vaermina using Erandur as an aperitif most of his life into consideration. She sat down beside him on the bed, and laid her head on his shoulder. An arm wound its way around her waist, his expression never changing.

"I thought you would be with Rommy tonight." Telki frowned at the flat voice. He'd not been this bad in ages. She snuggled her head into the valley at his shoulder, and wrapped both of her arms around him and squeezed.

"Honey, have you looked at yourself lately? How on earth could I snuggle down with someone else when you needed me?" Telki pulled until she had him laid down with his head resting on her stomach, soothing her hands through his rich brown locks. "Talk to me, angel."

"I thought I was your 'arrogant ass'." He shifted slightly so that his weight wouldn't crush her against the headboard. He could tell she wouldn't let this go, but would chase him all night about it if necessary. It was better to settle down comfortably and get it over with now.

"Sometimes, you are. Sometimes, you're my angel. Right now, you're my darling husband with too much on his mind, and it worries me. You were doing that flat faced thing again." Telki smoothed the frown forming between his brows. "Talk to me."

"I sometimes wonder, is anyone ever going to choose me, just for me?" Mercutio threw an arm over his face, waiting for the waterfall of words he knew that would unleash. He peeked under his arm at Telki, when she uncharacteristically remained silent. She tilted her head, and raised an eyebrow at him. Her soft fingers never stopped their repetitive trail through his hair.

"Yes, I know you didn't pick me for my face. Hell, you barely tolerated me at first." He tilted his head at her, narrowing his eyes, "Which was very sneaky and unfair of you, by the way."

Telki smiled back at him. "What? Never dealt with someone not bowled over by that unfairly beautiful face before?" Telki ran a light finger from forehead to chin, scratching his meticulously trimmed and groomed beard. The other hand never quit stroking through his hair.

"No." Another frown slipped across his face, and Telki hugged him close. "Sam made it pretty clear he was interested at first because I was pretty. Now, I wonder if it's because I'm an available extension of Romulus." He chuckled humorlessly. "Or maybe it's because I've told him no. Dammit." Mercutio went limp in Telki's arms. "I don't know, and I know a lot of it is just holdover, but…still." He sighed through his nose, deflating to lay boneless against her.

"Well, would it help you to know I hurt his feelings over you?" Merc shifted his head to stare at her. "Or that Sam's had a heart to heart with Lydia? Whatever first caught his eye Love, you—adorable angelic arrogant ass you—tied up the Daedra of Debauchery enough to not only reach his feelings, but to get him to consider family life—a version of it, anyway. You did that. Not me, not Gideon, only you. If that isn't proof enough you are awesome on your own, I don't know what is." Telki wrapped herself around Mercutio, snuggling him close. Her tailtip twitched lightly on his stomach, just further proof of how upset he was. Usually he'd have brushed it off his stomach because it tickled.

"What if he doesn't stay?" Mercutio asked softly. "What then?"

"Honey, he's not going to stay. He's a Daedra with an auspice to fulfill. I think you mean 'what if he doesn't come back?' And that I can't say. Maybe he will, I think it likely. I don't see him throwing away his friendship with Rommy, and you are important to him. And if he does? It'll hurt, no two ways about it, but this time? This time you'll have me, you'll have Lydia, you'll have Erandur, and Gideon, and Romulus, and the kids to support you and remind you how loved and cherished you are. I don't think that's a small difference, do you?"

Mercutio laid there thinking it over a long while. "No, it's not a small difference." He finally cut his eyes up to Telki, fluttering the lashes at her. "Were you planning on kissing me anytime tonight, or just sneakily tickle my poor abused stomach all night?"

"I dunno, holding you hostage and tickling you helpless sounds pretty tempting," Telki quickly found their positions reversed as someone decided to cover her face in teasing little kisses. Mercutio could move very quickly for a mage.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Rommy took a deep breath and let his hands fall to his side, opening eyes that were a tad too bright to look at the chained Imperial before him. The man's face was slack, where it had been defiant. A bit of drool leaked down his chin a moment before he slumped forward, unconscious. A faint whimper drew his attention to his right, where the assassin that had made the mistake of going after Ulfric was chained to the wall, awaiting execution. The man twisted in his irons, pressing himself as far back against the wall as he could while the Mad God stared. Finally, he stood and turned away, closing the cell door quietly behind him.

Talon and Ulfric waited tensely down the hallway somewhat, Ulfric talking quietly to his headsman. Rommy got the distinct impression that the entire affair made the Nord uncomfortable—in the past, he'd dealt with those trying to kill him himself, in ritual combat or honest battle. To his knowledge, this was the first time Ulfric would use an executioner for attempting to take his life, and it made him feel sullied. The execution needed to be made, however; rumors of what had transpired were radiating out from Windhelm, getting more and more speculative. Who could have done this? Why? Since they had focused mostly on the attempt on Ulfric and not the kidnapping—despite what the Imperials might think, most Nords were more concerned with their High King than some maybe-emperor—there was an undercurrent of taking restitution from the Empire by force.

"What did you learn?" Talon asked him softly.

Rommy sighed. "Not a lot," he confessed. "You were right; they're not usually hired to work as a group, not more than two or three of them at a time, anyway. Their fees are outrageous, but they have taken on similar jobs in…smaller uprisings. Things not official enough to call in the Legion, but annoying enough to local nobility to bring in specialists."

The elf nodded, having surmised as much. "I do not believe we got all of them," he revealed evenly. "A company that size would need more higher-level mages than we found. At least some got away."

"Well, I suppose one good thing about Skyrim is that the unprepared often die, and these men were more prepared for a Cyrodiil winter than a Skyrim spring," Rommy said with some relish, shoving his hands into his pockets. "The cold may fix that problem for us."

Ulfric rubbed his brow. "I would prefer to be more certain of their fate. Is there a way to find them?"

"I can send my Girls out searching, but they mostly look for the mad," Rommy said, only grumbling a little. "Too bad it's not a family business."

"Word is going out through the former Young Ones as well," Talon said, surprising them. "Fey is one of ours, and so are Pearl and Blossom. They are not taking it well."

Ulfric chuckled darkly. "They've roused the Young Ones ire? That's a more certain death than a blizzard in the Pale Pass."

"A very few have entered the private business," Talon said dryly, "They promised to keep an eye out."

"Well, their company was called the Charging Stallions—nice, subtle name there—so if they can discover who hired them, that would help," Rommy said. "Unfortunately, these two were rank and file. The best either of them had was overhearing someone else talk about a well-dressed, bitchy rich woman. I'm not sure how much the Imperial City has changed since I lived there, but that described about eighty percent of the upper class female population."

Ulfric barked with laughter. "They were the same in my youth. I doubt much has changed in thirty years."

"Then they were really unhelpful," Rommy sighed. "Neither of them even knew where the company records were kept. They hired a bookkeeper with half a dozen other companies."

Ulfric sighed. "Then one to the headsman, and the other? It was your grandchildren they held. What do you want done with him?"

Rommy shrugged, "That depends largely on what happens when he wakes up. I might take him back to the Isles, I might leave him to you. I like to not have personal grudges against my subjects. Makes things murky."

"Do you need Telki?" Talon asked, examining the way the man's eyes glowed. Not quite as bright as a Candlelight spell, but definitely brighter than an elf's, or even Khajiit's nightvision.

"I'll find her soon," Rommy assured him, then looked at Ulfric. "If you want to go ahead with the execution, I have no more need of him."

Ulfric heaved a sigh, as if about to say something, but simply nodded, and signaled his headsman. Rather than draw things out, Ulfric liked to get unpleasant things over and done.


	7. What's Past Is Prologue...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon and Rommy try to stab each other for funsies, then Rommy has some explaining to do.
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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of the Evil Forgot This Place Exists Chapter Dump! Enjoy!

Dawn was just breaking. This far into spring, it would still be awhile until most people ventured out, unless they were in the farms outside the city. Most of the streets were quiet, but the sounds of conflict could be heard from the Pit; an arena once used for prisoners of the city to fight in, but since closed down when Ulfric discovered it. It had apparently struck too close to home for the jarl, so now it was simply a place for the guards to come and practice, the only entrance to it not bricked over leading right from their barracks.

Rommy dodged and rolled, amused at the sense of nostalgia he felt. His last fight in the Arena had been the same day he'd been imprisoned on top of Uriel Septim's escape route. Still, it was nice to fight again, even in practice. Talon, a chronic insomniac apparently, had been practicing in it when he'd followed the stray thoughts of a waking mind. Since he'd once been more fighter than mage, he didn't mind sparring with the elf. And since he could ensure that Talon wouldn't die from any wounds, and since Talon was unable to kill him, neither of them were pulling their punches—or stabs, for that matter.

"Get him, Grand Champion!" Fanny called, gushing. He hadn't had much opportunity to show off his Arena chants the last few centuries. He'd fallen right back in with them, though. Bjartr, who had trouble sleeping because of the cold, had joined their audience. After Talon lent the boy his heat-enchant, the child had stripped off his shirt just like Fanny, and they'd both drawn all over themselves with warpaint; Fanny an R, Bjartr a T. He wasn't sure exactly how Murril had found out what was happening, but she was jumping up and down pretending she was punching someone with a fierce expression on her normally fearful face. Haskill watched politely and sipped his tea.

Talon was coming at him again. They'd both agreed no magic, since Rommy could out-power any mortal ever born. He was getting quite a few bruises out of this, though. Really, the only thing that could have made him more nostalgic was Felicia on the sidelines, huffing that he was an idiot even though she secretly liked watching him fight.

He met Talon's strike with one of his own, knocking the mer's dagger aside and twisting it, trying to wrench it from his grip. Talon countered that by changing the angle of the blade, making Rommy pull back or risk having his fingers sliced off. They broke apart again, circling each other, their breath puffing out in small white clouds in the frozen air.

Fanny screamed like a girl meeting, well, Gideon, he supposed, and swooned onto Bjartr, who shoved him onto a bench, looking offended. Murril was trotting around the edge of the arena with her fists raised in the air. Apparently she'd won her imaginary fight.

A long low wolf whistle cut through the cold air. There, in the overlook, were Telki's sisters. Ama was outright drooling, Nala, sleepy but appreciative, and Wemie, smirking around the fingers still in her mouth from whistling.

"Honestly, what are you knuckleheads up to this begotten early in the morning?" and there was Telki, leaning against the barracks doorframe.

"What does it look like?" Rommy replied, grinning as he swept his hair back from his face. He and Talon both relaxed, pausing the bout by mutual accord as she dropped gracefully over the walkway and to the dirt arena below. "We're trying to stab each other."

"So, these are the tryouts for Pincushions Anonymous, I see." She eyed a rising bruise on his collarbone. "Going for a Dunmer look while you're at it?"

He waved that off with a laugh. "You know I'll just Heal it later."

"Well, I do have to admit watching you two move is a rare and wonderful treat. Almost like music made motion," Telki fiddled with the collar. "I wonder," she got a mischievous look in her eye, "Think Talon ever learned to fight in front of an appreciative and loud audience before?"

"It has happened a time or two," the elf replied, unbothered.

Telki dimpled at him, "Wanna make my sisters hyperventilate, then?"

His eyes flickered to the three Khajiit above them, then back down to the Dragonborn. "How do you mean?" he asked warily. He had ceased making assumptions about Telki's intentions somewhere around his second day of their acquaintance.

"You are aware they find you very attractive?" Telki prompted.

"I'll consider taking vows to Anu," he replied, heaving a sigh very deliberately. Telki snickered.

"Now that would be a crying shame. The world needs more Talons." Telki shook her head. "Sidetracking, not nice. Anyway. They like you, you move divinely, and if you two fight like you've been fighting, it's very possible those three up there will overheat from your combined hotness, and that'll give me material to heckle them with for the rest of their lives."

"I would like to take this moment to point out that had your sister not interrupted, I'd be beating this elf into the ground right now," Rommy said, eyes shining. Talon raised an eyebrow at him.

"Self preservation has always been Wemie's strong suit." Telki booped Rommy's nose. "So, whataya say, guys? Gonna help a girl out?"

He glanced at Talon, who shrugged, and grinned down at Telki. "We could use a bit more exercise. I know I was just getting warmed up," he said, tying the neckline of his shirt to hide his scarred skin. Telki pouted and untied it again. "Please don't do that," he added, tying it once more.

"But I was enjoying the view!"

Lifting her hand and kissing the back of it, he sent a hint of Restoration magic to warm through her, "And you can enjoy more of it later," he promised.

"Okaaay," Telki eyed where her sisters were. "Should I show off a bit myself?" She turned to Talon. "You may or may not have seen something like this, but I figured it out all my lonesome." She let the teleport dance in her hand a moment, before poofing herself to the bench next to Ama.

"And you're teaching me that one today," Nala bopped Telki's noggin.

Murril ran over and plopped in Telki's lap, for once all smiles, pointing proudly at Rommy. Telki gave the girl a squeeze and a kiss. "Yep, he's something fine, isn't he, baby girl?" Murril's head nodded so vigorously she slapped Nala with her flying hair. Telki laughed at Nala's expression. "Welcome to life with kids, Aunt Nala."

Rommy and Talon were conferring at the moment, but they quickly moved to the side and each grabbed a sword. Rommy's was clearly Akaviri, Talon's a slender glass one. Both chose to use a dagger in their off hand rather than a shield, and the bout began again, both of them dodging and dancing around each other, and neither actually getting a real hit in with the actual sword, though there was enough elbowing and other deflecting going on to give them each a new set of bruises.

The air filled with chanting again as Fanny woke up and went right back to what he had been doing before he fainted, Bjartr giving him a wide-eyed askance look. Haskill poured himself some more tea. Pearl crept out onto the walkway and concealed herself, not wanting to be obtrusive, but curious to watch anyone that could keep up with her trainer.

Abruptly, the pair stopped, standing and regarding each other. "Dammit," Rommy groused, holding up his arm and examining the cut along the outside. "First blood. You win."

Talon gave him a formal bow. "It is an honor to win against the Grand Champion."

"Darn tootin!" Fanny called, irate. When Rommy gave him an exasperated look, he squealed "By Azura!" and turned into potatoes. Bjartr scooted away from them. Murril crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.

Telki tsked, and pulled out Fanny's bag from her pocket dimension. "Murril, care to help me gather him up?" All three of her sisters still had their eyes glued to the arena grounds, color high and tails barely twitching. She snickered; she was not letting them forget this, ever.

Murril nodded and hopped up, rushing over to gather up the Adoring Potatoes. Pearl came out from her hiding place to help, giving the Altmer girl a small smile that Murril actually returned before ducking her head. The spuds were all still complaining in conflicting voices about Talon beating Rommy, while Rommy himself was cheerfully going over the fight with Talon, who looked more animated than he had since the escape. He even showed a barely enthused expression or two.

"Fanny! How long has it been since Rommy had a real sparring partner?"

"Erm…By Azura…Sometimes Sam will fight him? The Girls, but they don't want to hit him? The Knights of Order?"

"Exactly. Talon's the first real fight he's had in quite the while. Like any skill, it takes practice to keep up. Talon can help him stay that awesome Champion you adore, but it'll take a little while for it to all come back. Complaining? Not helping your Grand Champion." Telki's firm tone left little room for argument.

Root vegetables were incapable of looking chagrined, but the grumbling got it across pretty well. Telki tsked at them and then checked on her sisters, who were quietly talking.

"Sooo, thoughts?" Wemie shook her head. It had been a while since she saw fighting that pretty. So many bandit fights had let her almost forget that fighting itself could be an art form.

"Sweet Mother Cat, but that man moves like water. They both do, but I'm thinking there's a currently 'no drooling' edict on Romulus. Otherwise, wooo-ooh." Ama was softly fanning herself.

"I want one." Nala decided simplest was best, then sighed. "I would love to see them fight again with magic."

"If you tell Romulus you were drooling over him, please, I want to watch." It was rare Telki managed to sneak up on her sisters. The foot high jump they all did was a rarity she'd treasure the rest of her days. "He's bound to color up like a tomato."

"Ooh, okay, how 'bout now?" Ama rarely turned down a chance at lighthearted devilry. Leaning far over the safety rail, she hollered, "Hey Rommy! Talon! You're a pair of hotties!"

Talon raised a single eyebrow in response. Rommy's face flushed bright red. It might have been their imagination that steam came out of his ears.

Nala snickered, while Wemie covered her face with her hands. "I can't take you anywhere."

Telki joined her sister leaning over the rail, both of them giggling like school girls. "I love you, Rommy!"

Still flushing but managing to chuckle a bit, Rommy sent her one of those floating, sparkling kisses that he'd invented just for her. "I'm not sure who's the bad influence," he told Talon quietly.

"Technically," the elf said dryly, "you are."

"Only technically?" Rommy gave him an arch look while Ama demanded her own sparkly air kiss. "Sorry Ama," he called, "I'm not for sharing!"

"What? Sisters don't get cheek kisses now?" Ama pouted, doing the most pitiful kitty droop over the railing with a pouty wobbly bottom lip, drooping ears, and all.

His smile turned a little wicked, "That is not a platonic kiss spell," he shared. All three sisters turned interested looks to Telki, who flushed and examined the rose of the dawn sky, looking innocent.

Ama wasn't to be deterred, "Can you  _make_ a platonic sparkly kiss spell?"

He thought about it, then noticed Murril looking hopeful, and sighed, "Give me a minute." He thought it through a moment, then tested it on Telki.

''Yes, safe for Murril consumption." Telki gave him a thumbs up from her place on the railing.

"Thanks, Love," he said, eyes shining, then blew a kiss to Murril, who looked so happy she verged on giddy, then to his new sisters-in-law (all three of them, even if Wemie did look somewhat stern at the moment), and then to Fanny, who had been making some unhappy whimpering noises. He probably shouldn't have done that last one, because the potatoes broke into smaller potatoes, which had certainly never happened before.

Pearl was watching with a thoughtful look on her face, then quickly climbed down to the arena, walking over to Talon and having a few quiet words with him while the others were occupied.

"What is it, Pearl?" he asked once they were out of earshot.

"Are you staying this time?" Pearl asked, face serious as she gazed up into his. She'd been afraid of him for so long, but it felt almost like another life, sometimes. As if she had truly died when Ilmiyon had tossed her off the dock, and reawoken in a better world.

He waited a long moment before answering, obviously thinking through what all his possible paths were, "I don't know," he finally said. "For a while, there is use for me here."

She nodded. That was good enough. "I would like to resume my training."

Talon blinked, clearly astonished to show even that much surprise. "You have no need for it now, Pearl."

"Magic," the girl elaborated, "and some weapons. Most do not expect mages to know weaponry, and if I ever need that skill I will regret not progressing it, though it will not be my focus."

He peered at her another minute, as if weighing her resolve, "Why have you not asked your mother?"

"You are a better battlemage," she said simply. "Mother was a courtesan. Her training focused elsewhere, and she had to continue practicing combat in secret." Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. "I do not wish to have a repeat of what happened here a few days ago. I watched Orien and Blossom be taken, and I could do nothing. I trained for twenty years, and I could do  _nothing."_

"You are still a child,  _bellani,"_  Talon told her softly. "No matter your human grandmother, you are more elf than human, though your mind is older than your body."

"I do not want to be weak," she revealed, her voice holding a fierceness few ever saw.

"Talon, may I join your conversation?" Telki had only overheard a little of it. She didn't much care for eavesdropping, especially on what she considered family, but what Jyggalag had said was still nagging her.

The mer glanced at the girl, since she was the one asking favors. Pearl nodded gravely as her mother ever had. Her looks favored her father, but in temperament, she was so much like her mother sometimes it was almost comical.

"Even if I didn't have this from a Daedric Prince, I would beg you to train these children. Their parents make them targets, my enemies make them vulnerable targets, and a precognitive Prince tells me they need the best training available. That's you. Will you please consider it?" Telki was actually nervous enough, she was wringing her tail. Not even Alinor had made her wring her tail.

A hint of a frown hovered around his brow. "Tell me more," he said, feeling a bit of a chill run down his spine, and not from the cold of Windhelm.

"We may need to sit then. Um, gimme a moment." Telki rummaged her dimensional space, and pulled camp stools out for them. Talon's eyebrows actually shot up and Telki looked up at him in surprise. "Um? I thought you knew this one. I can show you?"

"I am familiar with bags of holding. I am not familiar with ones that can fit things bigger than the opening of the physical vessel." That was actually supposed to be impossible. Trust Telki to take the impossible and run roughshod over the entire concept.

Pearl shrugged, "I once saw Rommy put Murril in his pocket," she said philosophically.

"Rommy is a special case," Talon reminded her absently.

"Well, it's easy when you make the opening to the holding space elastic. You can also use a drawstring opening that unfolds much larger, but things tend to get lost in the folds," Telki explained, setting the legs of the stools firmly into the leather seats, offering Talon the first completed camp chair. She had Pearl's done quickly after. Pearl sat right down, but Talon waited for Telki to seat herself before taking his own stool.

Seeing them settled, Telki went back to wringing her tail, wondering the best place to begin. "So, you know precisely who Rommy is. Well, his predecessor is still around, only he goes by the name of Jyggalag, and he was mighty miffed with us torquing the business out of his 'perfect timeline.' Apparently, something big is going down, and he's not exactly confident my kids, or Fey's kids, are going to sidestep trouble as easily as I did. So, training, the best you can give them, is about the only thing going to save them from some of the fallout I've created."

Talon looked at her hands, then reached out and shook them from her tail—one of the few times he'd freely touched someone other than Healing them or battle. "Yes," he said simply. He perhaps should have warded before he did so, because next thing he knew there was a relieved Dagi-Raht throwing her arms around him. It was faintly horrifying. Pearl was snickering. Feeling decidedly awkward, he patted her back gingerly.

"Okay, from tail wringing to hugging. Have you ever seen a more awkward hug?" Nala felt like she should have a program, and maybe snacks handy. It was the most interesting pantomime she'd ever watched.

"Needs practice holding women, should we offer our services?" Ama heard Nala's huff before she pushed her shoulder for such words, but Ama couldn't help it! The mer was fine, and so far, unattached.

"Wonder what it was about?" Wemie could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times in her life she'd seen Telki go dishrag limp with relief. They weren't many. Whatever they had been talking about, it was serious. Given Telki's latest projects, she wouldn't be above believing deadly serious. How the two with her missed that boggled Wemie's mind. It was probably part of why she was the eldest, and they weren't. No wonder she was always pulling them out of trouble.

"Telki…please let go of me," Talon finally managed, feeling more awkward than he could remember this century.

"Um, if I let go, I'ma fall. Sorries."

Pearl snickered and took pity on them both, nearly skipping over to where Rommy was reassuring Fanny that it wasn't an official match so he was still the Grand Champion, Fanny didn't have to follow Talon around now if he didn't want to, and informed Rommy that his fiance had melted and Talon really wanted her off him. Truly, the Mad God was divided between a slight surge of protective jealousy, or leaving her there to watch the mer squirm a bit. In the end, the chance to cuddle Telki won out, and he picked her up as Talon looked so grateful it took all he had not to laugh.

"Sooo," Rommy drawled, using a hint of Illusion magic to make his voice carry to the others, "it's still a bit early for everyone to be up, but I did make some cinnamon breakfast rolls if anyone's interested."

"Honey nut treats?" Four voices, in unison, and so hopeful it hurt.

His inability to say no to sad or hopeful looking females reared its fearsome head again, and Rommy sighed. "If we all go to the kitchen I can make some." The kiss Telki leaned up and gave him made him feel considerably better about it, even if Talon was giving him a look that suggested the other man had noticed and noted the weakness. He had a strange feeling any uncomfortable requests Talon might ever have for him would be coming through a small, big-eyed intermediary.

Ducking through a door and up some stairs to the overlook, Rommy staggered slightly with surprise as Murril got a bit jealous and hopped on his back. Pearl grinned behind her hand and picked up the Fanny bag, while Talon politely opened the door for them all. His expression was unreadable again, but that didn't stop the Daedra from knowing that Talon was amused.

Maybe he should have left Telki there a few more seconds.

The kitchens weren't too far away, and the cook was out, bread already in the ovens and nothing more for the man to do until they were ready to come out. Rommy suspected he had either gone back to bed, or went to flirt with Jorlief, who seemed about as clueless to it as he did to other things. Setting Telki down on the bench by the table, he turned to survey the kitchen, ingredients already floating out of their places to where he wanted them. Murril hopped down and stared pointedly at the already completed cinnamon rolls.

"I demand quality control checks on the nuts," Telki prompted. "I name myself head nut checker."

"You do know in some places they grind the nuts down, mix them with oats, honey, and warm milk, and eat them like porridge?" Rommy told them, separating the nuts into several small bowls.

"Oooh, can we have ground nuts and large pieces? Why limit yourself to one or the other?" Telki could already imagine the flavor explosion ground nuts in the batter would provide.

"You're lucky I don't have to do this by hand," he sighed, bringing over a mortar and pestle and setting it to grind nuts without ever once touching it. Murril was chasing the flour bag around like an otter chasing a butterfly. Rommy caught it, measured out a cupful, then sent it around the room again.

"Rommy, how in Aetherius are you doing all this?" Nala's jaw had hit the floor with the second item in the air. Now? She was afraid of stepping on it. It took more magic power and skill than most mages ever attained to lift and hold three items in the air. This man had several dozen small baking items zinging about the room, and was obviously keeping absent-minded track of them all. The chill she felt had nothing to do with the climate as she studied him in mixed awe and wariness. Wemie picked up on it immediately, glancing from her to Romulus with narrowed eyes.

"Uh…" he flushed a little. Whoopsie. He'd forgotten himself for a bit, apparently. "I'm, uh, older than I look, and I've picked up a few things."

"If they were just hovering, I might buy that," Nala pressed, unable not to when magic and her sister's possible safety was involved. "However, a fork just danced off with a spoon and that is Daedra-deal-level hijinks."

"I did not deal with a Daedra for magic power," he asserted truthfully. "Or the Ideal Masters, or the Aedra, or any other Power I'm currently forgetting, so get that nervous look off your face."

"Honey. They're family. Might as well spill all the beans while we're at it," Telki filched another nut, popping it in her mouth completely unconcernedly. "I promise you, they'll freak a li'l bit, and then they'll get over it and handle it just fine like I did."

"Hopefully not just like you did," he winked.

"You'll probably get more hugs, though," Telki wrinkled her nose. Sharing a husband with a sister? Eeeeh, that one weirded even her out a little bit.

"I'd rather not tell anyone else just yet, anyway," he went on, as if they weren't right there listening tensely. The bantering tone Telki was using was putting them a bit more at ease, but now that they knew for certain something unusual was going on with him, he didn't expect them to drop the issue. "You're the one that said it was unfair that Talon knew before Tyr, and you're right. I don't know how to tell Tyr, but I'd rather it wasn't after everyone else already knew. Besides," he added, finally glancing at the girls, "it's driving them batty trying to figure it out."

"Honey, they're my sisters. I confuse you as it is," Telki gave him a droll look, "Do you really want three separate cases of Telki-level batty to contend with?"

"It doesn't bother me," he said.

"Sort of bothers me," Tyr said, leaning against the doorframe looking annoyed. He'd been awakened by Orien requesting mammoth milk so Bacon would quit honking and found his cousin talking about The Big Secret. At least he could console himself that it was apparently a Big Secret to everyone but Telki.

"Oh goody, there goes your excuse. Hear ye, hear ye, family share time is now in session. Romulus, you have the floor." From her seated position at the table, she gave a flourish to Romulus like the best barrister in Cyrodiil.

Rommy sighed, wiping flour off his hands. "I am very annoyed with you right now," he informed her tiredly.

"I know, still love you."

"I still love you too, I'm just heartily glad I'm already insane," he rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. Tyr was still waiting by the door, growing more stern by the moment. He really resembled his grandmother when he did that.

"Would this be easier talking to Tyr alone? I can herd people out?" Telki always worried when he got that particular beaten down expression. It made all her caretaker instincts roar.

"You wanted a family forum," Rommy groused, "You were quite pushy about it, in fact. Ask away," he told Tyr, Nala, Ama, and Wemie, as close to snapping as they ever heard him.

"Okay, I'll bite," Ama, fearless, clueless Ama, was the first one to take him up on it. "Why'd you hide your chest during the fight this morning?"

Rommy opened his mouth, then closed it, then simply ripped open the tie at his collarbone, showing off the top of the network of burn and sword scars that marked his torso. "Not too keen on people staring," he said shortly.

"Sweet gods above, Rommy, what hells have you been through?" It took Wemie a moment to find her voice. Ama actually had tears in her eyes, and Nala's jaw still hadn't found its way back to the rest of her.

Telki's eyes were dripping into her filched nuts. She hated when he got like this, and knew, as much as she wanted to hug him right now, he wouldn't let her. That hurt worse than the rest of it.

"Specifically?" he asked, "The Deadlands."

"Imperial, Deadlands, and named Romulus? How?" Nala's jaw finally agreed to cooperate.

Rommy sighed, closing his eyes, and Tyr burst into furious curses in both Common and Dunmeris, several of which were blasphemous. "Bloody fecking  _hell,_  you're the Champion of Cyrodiil?" he finished, his voice loud enough to make Rommy wince. "You're my bloody  _ **GRANDFATHER?"**_ The palace shook.

Finally, Rommy nodded, his eyes shut tightly, unable to look at him. Tyr's jaw tightened. "So all that bullshit about you supposedly dying or vanishing or whatever, and Father having to grow up alone, in hiding, and  _you've been alive all this time?_  Where were you?"

"Shivering Isles," Rommy managed after a moment. Nala gasped, ears and tail tucked. Wemie and Ama looked at her questioningly.

"Where?" Tyr, like most non-mages, didn't quite make a habit of knowing the names of all the Oblivion realms. "Where in Oblivion is that?"

"Oblivion," taking a deep breath, Rommy finally opened his eyes, locking onto Tyr's. "When Felicia died and they told me Orien was nowhere to be found, I lost myself, and ended up in the realm of Sheogorath. I was trapped there for a time, and…now I rule it."

Tyr stared at him for a long moment, completely at a loss. Then he cursed and stormed from the room. Rommy took a deep breath and sat right where he was, back against the counter and covering his face with his hands. Telki slipped down on the floor beside him, laying her head on his shoulder. If she had to remind him the rest of his life, she wouldn't leave him alone, never again. He stiffened for a moment, then put an arm around her, still hiding his face. His hair was getting lighter in stress.

Ama went after Tyr; after a conflicted glance at Telki, Wemie went after Ama. Nala was still frozen in her seat, trying to absorb the fact her sister was engaged to a Daedric Prince…and if  _he_ was a Daedric Prince? Then Sam? Sweet Nine above, did she really make a deal with  _Sanguine_?

For a few long minutes, there was silence. When his voice finally broke it, even Talon jumped slightly. "I need to go back to the Isles for a while."

"Please let me come with you?" Telki was loath to leave Romulus by himself, especially when she felt she'd made everything a mess.

"I need some time alone," he said. "I need to think and...and maybe scream at something. Haskill can bring Murril and Fanny back later."

"You'll remember to come back, too? Don't make me find my own way to the Isles to get you back. I will, and then you'll be even angrier at me." She looked down at her hands, ears flat in distress at the thought.

Another silence, "I'll see you soon," he finally said, then vanished in a burst of black light, skipping even the appearance of butterflies or portals.

Murril started wailing, her head whipping around like he'd just moved too quickly for her to see and would still be in the room. She ran over to Telki and grabbed her hand, looking around and tugging on her arm, wanting the Queen to show her where her Daddy had gone.

"Shh, love, he just went back to the Isles for a moment. He'll be back." Telki pulled the poor child into her arms, cuddling her up close, trying to reassure herself as much as Murril. "He'll be back, or we'll go get him."


	8. What to Come, in Yours and my Discharge.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyr made it as far as the Great Hall before his energy ran out and he needed to sit. There was no one around this early in the morning—the table wasn't even set yet—so he simply sank onto the bench with his back to the table and rubbed his face with his hands, thoughts whirling.

Rommy was his grandfather. Rommy was the Champion of Cyrodiil he'd heard caroled about since he was a little boy. He had always somewhat resented that distant figure, someone that simply vanished to leave his father alone, to be raised by Blades that truly loved him, but weren't his parents. His father had had nightmares until his final days about the Oblivion Crisis, and had refused to talk about it very much. Once, when out hunting, they'd come across the remains of an Oblivion Gate, and Orien had destroyed it with such single-minded ferocity that Tyr hadn't worked up the courage to ask about it until his father brought it up himself.

Somehow, that all tied into his feelings for the Champion. And now, it turned out the Champion was the strange, friendly mage that showed up out of nowhere one day, giving him a sense of family he'd never had. It was all very confusing, and frustrating, and he wanted to hit Romulus, he really did.

Ama sank down on the seat next to him, not talking, just laying her head on folded arms, and studying the woodwork as if it held all the answers she needed. When Tyr finally noticed her he practically fell off the bench. She held still, letting him decide when or if they talked. It gave her time to sort her own thoughts out.

"So…your sister is marrying a Daedric Prince. My grandfather, the Daedric Prince," he finally managed. "You as thrown as I am?"

"Pretty thrown, yes," Ama admitted. "Figured none of us really needed to think all this out alone. I think Nala's still frozen at the table. Wemie's probably already sorted it all out in that head of hers, and is figuring groomsmen and bridesmaids."

"Oh, Divines," Tyr said again, pressing his fingers against his eyes. "Sam is Sanguine." Somehow, that surprised him less.

"Yeah," Ama shook her head. Somehow, that made the carrying snub a little…bitier. But then, it also meant the Daedra of Debauchery was serious about a relationship. The heck kind of crazy was that? Oh, wait.

"You know, back when I first met Rommy, I would have said me marrying a Thalmor—even an ex-Thalmor—was the craziest thing that could happen. Didn't see this coming," he shook his head, still unable to process it.

"You think I saw my sister growing up to be Dragonborn and doing all the crap she's done since when I was having to tie her on a pony?" Ama asked. "She hid mice in my good shoes!"

"I will refrain from making cat jokes," Tyr mumbled.

"Just as well, you can't do them as well as we can. Home advantage and all."

Tyr's laughter had an edge of hysteria. "I keep wanting to say this is insane," he confessed, showing his Imperial lineage by gesturing broadly as he spoke. "I mean, he became a Daedra? Really, actually a Daedra. And he plays with my children. Hell, Telki has children. Is that wise? Should he be around anyone or is this…" He shook his head, unable to put the morass of feelings into words properly, "I don't know anymore."

Ama gave him a long solemn look, demonstrating a seriousness and focus she let few see. "He was human first. He loved, lost everything, and I think Telki's helping him find his way back to humanity, giving him his family back. Should we really be judging?"

That gave him pause. "You know," he said after a long moment of consideration, "When Fey first told me she was Thalmor, I sent her away?" He rested his chin on his hands, thinking very hard. "She told me her biggest secret, and I couldn't accept it. I thought I'd never see her again, and after a few months, I really regretted it, but not nearly as much as I resented her for being one of the people holding us, torturing us. Then…one day, the gate opened and in comes this Justiciar, with this tiny bundle he literally tossed at me. It was Orien. I don't think he was more than an hour old. He was still covered with blood. They tossed him at me, and left."

Rubbing his eyes, lost in memory, he continued, "Four men gave up their water ration for the next few days to make sure the flies didn't eat him alive. We tried to feed him, tried to care for him, but we were a bunch of men in a pit without fresh water or anything to eat besides poisoned bread given out once a day. I thought he was going to die. One of the mages powerful enough to still have a bit of magic refused to use Healing on him after the first few times. Said it was delaying the inevitable, and it was kinder if…"

Tyr took a deep breath. "Two nights after, Fey suddenly showed up again, in the middle of the night. She could barely move, but somehow she'd managed to sneak her way back in. She looked like a statue. She just took him off me, had to use Restoration to even get him to feed at that point, then he latched on to her and I thought, maybe he can make it. And she just started crying. She curled around him and started sobbing. I'd never seen her cry before, but she looked…And I realized, they were torturing her too."

"Damn." Ama could barely breathe. Not even her worst nightmares could have prepared her for a story like that. She let her scattered thoughts run back together a long while. "Y'know, it occurs to me you and yours are long past due some serious happy times." Ama tapped the table with a long claw. "I'm including Gran'pa in that. Don't you think he's been tortured long enough, too?"

"That's just it," Tyr confessed, "His expression just now, it reminded me of Fey's right then. I…really don't know how to deal with this, but…I told myself I wouldn't turn away anyone that told me their darkest secret again."

"Eh, you needed a moment to collect yourself. You are now collecting yourself." Ama rocked into Tyrlief, reminding him strongly of Telki. "And? What has collected Tyr decided about letting Gran'pa in?"

"Uh…I don't think I'll be calling him 'Gran'pa,'" he said uneasily. "Even if he stops magically dying his hair, he looks younger than I am, and I have enough elf to hide a decade or two," he glanced up and sighed. "I feel like my thoughts are stuck chasing their tails."

"Treat him like you've been treating him," Ama shrugged. "I think he was pretty happy being your cousin, and you two joshing around and stuff. I think the more normal he's treated, the happier and more grounded he seems, but that's just my impression. You've known him longer and better."

"Not by much," Tyr admitted. "I only got to meet with him a few times during Legion training, and we mostly talked about stupid stuff and—huh, he had me talking about myself more than the opposite, now that I think about it. This is actually more than he's ever talked about himself, besides filling me in on what's going on over at Telki's." He sat up, leaning his elbows back against the table. "The kids love him, and he dotes on them. I…can kind of see why my father was so bitter about him vanishing, if he treated him like that. To go from two loving parents to basically living with bodyguards…"

Ama listened while Tyr rambled. Apparently, stuff still needed sorting in his brainpan. So, she sat and listened while he did that verbally. "I just realized I was not only drooling over my brother-in-law at practice, but the Daedric Prince of Madness. I think I can relate to the disconnect."

Tyr snorted and decided pointing out that they seemed to drool at everyone was rather rude, and might get him smacked. He hadn't seen anyone advertise the fact that they were single quite so much since the last time he, Galmar, and Ulfric went drinking.

"I…think I want to go stare at my children sleeping like some sort of creep and just marvel at the fact that they're alive and safe," he declared, standing.

Ama snickered. "I think that's not called 'creep' but 'typical Dad.'"

"Well, Blossom woke up and punched me last time," he laughed. "I suppose I should be thankful we confiscated all her daggers." He regarded her for a moment. "Thank you for listening," he would have liked to include her name in that, but was a bit too embarrassed to confess he couldn't tell the sisters apart yet. Not that he'd had a lot of time to learn to.

"I'm glad I could be there for you." Ama gave him a gentle smile. "Wemie usually plays the sensible sympathetic ear. Thought it'd be nice to try it on for size. How'd I do?"

"Marvelous," he grinned at her, "You found a new talent."

Ama could feel her knees go weak. Fey hadn't stood a chance against that sun bright smile. Come to think of it, if Rommy smiled like that, no wonder Telki had him carrying her everywhere. She felt the need to sit a bit longer.

Tyr's face went from sunshine to concern in seconds. "Are you alright? You look like you just got hit by a frost spell or something."

"Mind turning the bright down on that smile? It's some kind of something."

He blinked, face going blank for a moment before turning the same shade as his hair. "Uh…oh," he stammered. He was saved having to make further reply by Wemie's shriek as something unexpectedly tugged at her sleeve from where she'd been listening in the doorway.

Wemie finally swallowed her heart back down, to see the biggest, teariest eyes she'd ever been smacked with. It was just one thing too much. "Tyr, come rescue your kid. I think I broke him."

Tyr crossed the room in seconds, sweeping Orien up into his arms. "What are you doing out of bed? And with bare feet again? Where are your slippers?" he asked, looking the boy up and down. Orien yawned and knuckled his eyes.

It took no brains at all to realize this little miracle was the baby from the story. Even Wemie had to wipe her eye, thinking they could have lost such a little love. Those big eyes were hard on her heart. They were also painfully reminiscent of another tot that knew how to work her big purple peepers.

Orien's big purple peepers were apparently difficult for him to keep open. "Bacon is hungry," he mumbled, snuggling into his dad's shoulder with a bit of a shiver. Tyr unbuttoned his outer shirt and wrapped the open ends around him. He was growing by leaps and bounds since they had escaped, his scrawny form filling out until he looked like an ordinary, healthy child. A little part of his mind reminded him that he had Rommy to thank for that.

"Tyr? Here." Wemie still had her cloak handy. There was no way he could get the child warm enough just using his shirt. She'd not have the little one shiver if she could help it. She might not know how to handle children, didn't mean she could stand to see them sad or ill or hurt, either.

"Thanks," Tyr said with real gratitude, wrapping it around the boy. Time enough to deal with his emotions later; right now, he had a wandering little boy to put back to bed.

"M' ears 're cold," Orien complained, cupping his hands over his slightly pointed ears. "Who are the Telkis?" he asked, giving Wemie a bright, sleepy smile.

Wemie laughed. "I'm her big sister. I'm Wemie. This lump cooing at you from my shoulder is Ama. She likes hugs, so be warned."

"I like hugs," Orien informed them, reaching out to be hugged.

Wemie's eyes were fit to pop out of her head. The child was utterly fearless, or had complete faith, both of which left little room for self preservation. All that flitted through her head in the time it took to catch him diving out of his father's arms.

He was a nice cuddle, and the pouty face Ama was making was utterly worth it. He was also two still seconds from falling asleep on her. Where the gentle sway and soft hum came from, she had no clue.

Ama snickered. "You did the same thing to get us to sleep." Aha. Well, the little boy did remind her of Telki. They had the same fearless disposition and friendliness. They even shared coloring. No wonder the old lullabye their mother had once sung to her sprang so easily back to mind. "If he falls asleep, I get to hold him next time." That was all too familiar, too.

Tyr looked like he wanted to laugh, but was holding it in by bare margins—though Wemie had a bit of a no-nonsense attitude, there no hiding the resemblance to Telki when there were children about. "Want to help me get him back to bed, since he's apparently finding you so comfortable?"

"I…um…y'know? I think I'd like that." Wemie was still gently rocking the little boy.

"Seriously, dibs on next time." Ama peered at Orien's little face and looked about to melt when he gave her another sleepy smile, clearly fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Well," Tyr said as they started walking, "you can always help me carry Bacon, since Orien's not going to be awake to feed her."

"Seriously, Tyr, not even remotely the same." Ama's pout was reaching critical mass. "But I do know a thing or two about bottle feeding livestock," Ama shivered. "Will not forget that stupid moose calf, ever."

He raised his eyebrows, gazing down a her and wondering idly if all Khajiit were this short, or just Telki's family. There hadn't really been a lot of them in the Pits for some reason. "A moose? I'm caught between wanting to know how you got ahold of a moose calf, and telling you to be thankful it wasn't a mammoth."

"Telki's how we wound up with a moose calf. On one hand, I want to say it was a good thing we were in the middle of rural Cyrodiil, so we had space for everything she carted home, and on the other…it gave her access to everything she carted home." Ama shuddered, "And, having bottlefed a moose, I can appreciate there being no mammoths in Cyrodiil."

"I'm still a little confused on how a moose wound up in Cyrodiil. I thought they were pretty exclusive to Skyrim and the Northern Reach in High Rock," he said, then shook his head. "I didn't even know they were there until I met a Breton whose cart was overturned by an angry bull moose. Then again, I take any story that starts with 'No shit, there I was!' with a grain of salt."

"We were in northern Cyrodiil, on a Khajiit caravan route. Mostly, I think it's because Telki. I find she's the exception to most rules," Wemie dryly remarked. "Ama swears it was a moose calf. I'm pretty sure it was just an elk."

"How angry was it?" Tyr joked, then held a finger to his lips as he opened the door to the children's room, peeking his head around the door first to make sure Fey wasn't in there, ready to throw lightning. She was a little jumpy after the kidnapping, but then, so was he. She would probably get even more jumpy after he told her they had a Mad God in the family, but…Well, her brother had been a sociopathic murder and the less said about her father the better. "Coast is clear," he whispered, moving into the room.

Bacon was splashing in her tub, making little huffing noises. Blossom was sprawled out on her and Orien's bed, under a mountain of covers that looked like she'd upended a laundry basket on herself, and Pearl was up and tossing a paralysis spell on him before she was rightly awake enough to see it was him. He would have sighed, but he was paralyzed.

"Oh!" she gasped in dismay, hand going to cover her mouth. "Sorry!"

"Glad to see you're prepared for anything," he smiled softly at her as she released him. "Good job."

Pearl blushed and plucked at her covers, still unused to praise. If Tyr had anything to say about it, she'd be so smothered in praise she'd brush it off by the time she reached Shell's age. "Decided to go back to bed after the whole Rommy confession?"

"Well…It's too cold to go outside to think," the girl shrugged, not sure if confessing she'd known all along was the right move at the moment. "And I lent Orien my bracelet to go find you."

Wemie and Ama exchanged a look. Ama sighed. "I'll go look for it."

Wemie's brows knitted. "I've been feeling something poking me…is he wearing pockets?"

"Uh, yah?" Ama gently fished out the pokey object. "Might this be it? Why was it in his pocket?" Ama turned to the little girl, the bracelet sparkling even in the low light. "Shall I put it on you?"

"I can," she said holding out her hand. Ama gently handed it over.

"Pearl's very independent," Tyr told them proudly, leaning down to straighten some of the covers over Blossom. He kissed her forehead and expertly dodged a sleeping punch.

Wemie and Ama shared a sad speaking glance between themselves. Several aunt level promises were made. There were some kids with some kidding around to make up. Luckily, they had experts on hand now.

Tyr smoothed down the covers, except for the one Blossom had a deathgrip on. "Alright, it should be alright to lay him down now."

Wemie gently laid the little boy on his bed, helping Tyr arrange the covers, and leaving one last soothing caress across his brow. She firmly told her awakening mommy instincts to go stuff it, since she'd not met a suitable daddy yet, and they could just stop it right now.

Blossom stirred slightly, rolled over and cuddled Orien's head to her chest, and went back to sleep, completely ruining the covers. Orien barely reacted other than to curl under the blankets she had tugged. In all, he'd taken becoming his twin's stuffed animal pretty well, especially considering they'd only met two months ago, and she'd scared the life out of him that first day.

Hearing the warning behind her, Wemie deftly and quickly guided her sister out and down the hall before the cute overload escaped in a squeal to wake the dead. "Oh My Aedra, I WANT ONE!"

"This one is still on offer," Tyr whispered loudly to them as he closed the door, carrying the horker pup. He held Bacon up so that her fuzzy, whiskery face was level with theirs. "Isn't she cuuute?"

"Every time I look at her, I want a BLT sandwich," Wemie quipped, booping the horker's nose. Bacon sneezed, sending Wemie hastily jumping out of the way of a wet spray, and Ama snickered.

"Well, that's not what I was hoping to inspire," he mock-huffed, tucking the pup under his arm like a ball and striding toward the kitchen. Sobering, he added, "Might as well get this confrontation over with."

"Yep, we gotcha flank." Ama and Wemie followed right behind him.

He was quiet for the rest of the hallway, then right before he opened the door, glanced at them and asked, "Do you think maybe I should take Fey out of the city before I tell her?"

"Ummm. Good question. How badly is she likely to take this mess?" Ama winced, having eavesdropped on Vex. "Scratch that, yeah, maybe a romantic trip out to the middle of nowhere'd be safest?"

"Yeah," he replied, wincing a little. "Maybe Telki will babysit? Or you all could?"

"Oooh ooh! Yes, please, and thank you? Oh, just wait 'til Nala hears!" Wemie put a calming hand on top of Ama's head, and pushed her back down to the flat of her feet.

"Are you sure you want to leave the kids with the hyperactive duo? I can't make any promises," Wemie warned.

"As long as one of you has potions or healing magic, you're fine," he waved that off, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Telki and Murril were still in a huddle on the far end of the room, the girl still hiccuping softly and looking like she wanted a million more years of hugs. Talon was crouched next to them, holding a Calm spell over the girl, since she started wailing again every time he stopped. Haskill was still sipping tea, a tearful Fanny in his lap, making his shirt soggy. Nala had curled around Murril and Telki, cooing to them both softly.

Overall, everyone looked pretty miserable. The cook had returned to take out the bread, and he looked like he wished he had just let it burn. Of course, it hardly helped that Rommy had left everything floating in a circle around the kitchen.

Talon glanced them over once, his face the only calm thing in the room. "He left," he said without preamble.

"What?"

"Why?" Wemie and Ama were at a loss for words after their initial gasp of surprise. Shock and dismay tied their tongues.

"'Cause I pushed him too soon, he wasn't ready, and when Tyr left…he needed to be alone." Telki curled a little tighter in on herself. "It's my fault."

"Don't blame yourself, Telki," Tyr winced. "I'm the one that…yelled at him, cursed at him, then ran out the door."

Telki finally looked up, assessing Tyr with wide eyes. "You came back in here looking for him."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Technically, I came back in here for mammoth milk, but I was planning to talk to him, yeah."

"How serious are you about talking to him, about accepting him?"

"Well…" Tyr sighed. "I suppose I just want to know how this happened, and think on it a bit, but I…I like him," he shrugged helplessly. "He's family."

"Willing to come with me to the Shivering Isles and tell him so?"

Stricken, he could only stare at her a moment. "The…as in Oblivion? Go through a Gate or something?"

"Pffft, Haskill can port us easily enough, no Gates or scariness involved. And really, the Mania side's not so bad. Hopefully we show up in New Sheoth and he'll meet us there. I'm serious Tyr. Right now, he needs to know that not even the Shivering Isles are going to scare you away, and the sooner the better."

Tyr looked down for a long moment, hair partially escaping from its tail to hide his face. Finally, he turned to Telki's sisters, "Good thing you said you had experience with livestock," he said, passing the horker to Ama with an indignant honk from the creature. Striding quickly to the other side of the room, he pulled Telki, Nala, and Murril to their feet with one move. "No time like the present, I suppose."

"Haskill, if you would, please?" Telki asked with all the dignity she could muster on short notice.

Heaving a sigh at his interrupted tea, Haskill stood, turned, and made a motion like he was opening a door. He took a single step forward and vanished. Murril wiggled until Telki put her down, running for the spot, and also disappeared.

"Shall we?" Telki offered Tyr her arm, gazing at him with all sorts of hope in her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he gave her an apologetic look. "I am working on a lot of faith and apprehension right now, so excuse me a moment," with that, he took his courage in hand, tossed her over his shoulder, and ran at the spot.

"Really, we could just walk!" Telki wondered how such a buff fellow had such a bony shoulder.

"Really couldna," he sighed, looking about with wide eyes. They had emerged in the Palace at New Sheoth, one of the back hallways that were always a twisted, moving mess. As ever, it looked as if someone had gone through and obsessively aligned every brick, scoured every crevice of even the idea of dirt.

"Okay handsome, this way to the main room. Walk with me? Um, feet, floor, please and thank you?" Telki delicately waved her feet to remind Tyr she was still tossed over his shoulder. Really, the shoulder was too bony. Weren't the palace staff feeding him?

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, starting to put her down then getting bowled over as Fanny ran through the portal, used his back as a springboard, then ran down the hallway with his arms thrown in the air yelling for the Grand Champion or Azura by turns. Tyr had to roll just to keep from crushing her, staring after the Bosmer in astonishment that the little man could move that fast.

"Yeah,  _that_  should pull Rommy back from wherever he wandered off to."

"You think?" he shook his head, as much to clear his jumbled thoughts as anything, then frowned. "Murril, what are you looking at?"

The little Altmer was at the window, staring up into the grey, roiling sky that flickered and raced with lightning. Her ears twitched with every bolt, searching for the thunder that should accompany the sight.

"Oh, my poor Rommy." Telki watched the skies, utterly stricken. "Tyr, I need you to do something, please. It's silly, you'll feel foolish, but will probably be the quickest way to get this done."

"I already feel silly and foolish half the time so…what are you doing?" he interrupted himself to ask Murril, who was poking about the pocket of his tunic, then gave him an insulted look and huffed, turning away and crossing her arms as if she found him deficient somehow.

"Murril, Tyr doesn't have Rommy's magic. I'll happily carry you, if you like?"

The little elf ran over and snuggled into Telki's arms, gazing up at her with wide green eyes, pointing to the sky. "I know, sweetie, Tyr's about to sing him home. Okay?" She turned her attention back to Tyr. "You know the children's chant, the 'where oh where' tune? Sing it with Rommy's name in it."

Looking absolutely panicked, Tyr held up both hands, " _Don't_  make me sing," he half-warned, half-begged.

"Tone deaf?" Telki sighed. "I wanted you to do it, because he's thinking his last living family doesn't want him. You sing his summoning song, he'll know immediately that one, you do want him, and two, that you accept all of him. Isn't that worth making me grit my teeth for half a minute?"

Eyes bouncing from her face to the window, he said, "I take it he has something to do with the weather? And that's really bad?"

"You inherited his smarts, too. Now sing, boyo."

"You know what?" he said after far too long an uncomfortable pause, "Why don't we just do this my way?" Marching over to the window, he opened it (it dropped down into the mushroom forest below them, but he barely stared at it for more than four seconds of wondering if that was supposed to happen), stared into the lightning storm, and Shouted.  _ **"LOK VAH KOOR!"**_

Even in the Isles, a place an extension of its master, the  _thu'um_  had power. The clouds paused, then reluctantly rolled back. After a moment the resistance evaporated, and so did they, leaving a brilliantly blue sky with purple edgings.

"What are you two doing here?" Rommy asked in astonishment from behind them, white hair out and mage robes their normal eye-watering colors.

"Tyr?" Telki nudged him. "This would be the talking to Rommy part."

"Um…" Tyr stared at Rommy, who was staring right back, and the resemblance between them and their uncomfortable faces was so obvious Murril skipped on air between them, touching all the features she saw the same.

"Oh for crying out loud. You two, I swear. Rommy, what would possess a sane person to go chasing after someone in the Shivering Isles? Tyr, honestly? You can  _thu'um_ , but you can't talk?" Telki huffed, but snuggled into Rommy's side. She missed him, and hated upsetting him.

"Er…did you two really meet in an inn in Dawnstar?" he asked, the first thing that popped into his head. It then occurred to him that Telki might actually be insane rather than just crazy, and she had met him here, and he shut up again.

Rommy couldn't help himself; he snickered. It was pretty obvious what Tyr was thinking, and he sort of hoped Telki didn't notice, because she might find that hurtful. "We met in the inn in Dawnstar," he confirmed. "One of your old Legion buddies moved there. I thought maybe he would know where you were, but he'd never even made it to Alinor before he was ransomed back."

"Huh. You hadn't told me that part before."

"Uh, well," Rommy rubbed his forehead, embarrassed, "I was disappointed…and caused a storm…so…"

"So it's your own fault you're stuck with me permanent-like." Telki stuck her tongue out at him, and then squeezed him tightly. Her world was restored to rights, thank heavens.

"No, pretty sure that you had something to do with it, too," he sassed, giving her an amused, affectionate look. "Something about 'Not going to open the Curious Box, not going to open the Curious—Erandur, where are my lockpicks?'" He did a fairly good Telki impersonation when he put his mind to it.

"Two can play this game. I can tell Tyr about that interesting staff I have upstairs in a chest." Telki cleared her throat, imitating his 'Sheo' voice. "Do ye mind? I'm doing the fishstick, it's a delicate state of mind."

"I am completely lost," Tyr told them both, very confused.

"Ask the Boys, it's a requirement for hanging around me," Telki quipped. "Okay, so, since Tyr seems unable to say it himself, he wants to keep you, too. So there."

Rommy closed his eyes, swallowing once, then grinned hopefully up at Tyr. "So the first thing you do is come here and break my window? How very grandson of you."

Tyr jumped, glanced back at the window, and shrugged. "I get it honestly?" he tried. He was still coming to grips with this, but maybe, if they kept a sense of humor about it, it wouldn't be so bad. "Anyway, I hope you don't care if I keep calling you cousin or kinsman rather than 'grandfather,' even when your hair's white. It's…a little too weird."

Rommy shrugged. "That's fine. I'm just…" forcing himself to keep from gazing away, he finally got out, "I'm glad you don't hate me."

"I'm part Dunmer and part Nord. If I hated you, you'd be on your arse and on fire right now," Tyr reminded him. "Granted, this is probably the strangest thing that has happened to anyone in our family since, well, you, but I'd miss you if you left, and I think Blossom would stab me for driving off the best sweetroll baker, and I think I'm rambling again. Is it too early to drink still?"

The Mad God tilted his head so that he was looking around his grandson's shoulder, out the window. The sky literally turned over like the inside of a rolling ball, from bright blue to twilight mauve, complete with stars and a clicking sound. "Now it's not."

"That is useful," Tyr said after a moment's staring.

Telki snickered from under Rommy's arm. Rommy, knowing exactly what she was thinking, gave her a droll look, and placed his fingers lightly over her mouth. "Quiet, you," he said before he turned back to Tyr, "Your grandma here has some sobermead, if you prefer."

"Telki, I'm never calling you grandma," Tyr said firmly. The woman was over a decade younger than him!

Telki was laughing, hard. "That's okay, but I'm still spoiling your kids rotten."

"Slightly afraid that might happen without your help," Tyr sighed.

"If it makes you feel any better, by the time they're teenagers we'll probably have the hang of that part," Rommy said ruefully, turning to lead them down the hall and keeping the adjoining ones from moving around too much as they passed. He could still feel Tyr's reservations, but the fact that he was willing to put them aside for the moment made him very hopeful. Murril ran next to him and he put her in his pocket, where she snuggled down in the bottom.

"So how did you become the Mad God?" Tyr asked him.

"Uh, long story…"

 


	9. Love All, Trust a Few

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twins meet twins, and other things begin.
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> Illustration by the illustrious Sir Douglas of Fir and the ubertalented Evil is Relative.  
> Neither of which were brave enouhg to post it, so I did it for them.  
> Because it is awesome, just look!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> Isn't that just adorable???

 

Gideon stretched and yawned, enjoying waking up late for once. Not being jumped awake by Francois or tempted out of bed by bacon for one pressing reason or another. It was a rare and glorious feeling, but one thing was missing: There was a cold spot where there should have been a tempting Bosmer. For just a moment, Gideon feared it had all been a dream finding her again, in Riften of all places. It really felt too good to be true, but no, her scent was still on the sheets, and that was all the reassurance he needed.

Gideon was wide awake now, and quickly got out of bed, hissing when bare feet hit the cold stone floor. Sometime in the night, the fire in the grate went out, leaving the room chilled and shadowed. The candles did a poor job lighting the space, and he quickly crossed to the window to pull the curtains aside, flooding the room with Skyrim's slightly grey-tinged sunlight. The sky was remarkably clear, showing that spring might be slow in coming, but it was getting there. "Shell?"

"Oh, you're awake?" she called, seemingly from nowhere. Her voice echoed a little in the cold stone room.

"Shell? Why are you awake, and more than that, why are you out of bed?" Gideon finally got bleary eyes adjusted enough to look around for her.

"I know how much you like sleeping in, so I thought you wouldn't mind if I popped over to see my mother while you were dead to the world," she said, sounding nervous for some reason.

"First thing you should know: do not expect reason until the third cup of coffee, and by cup, I mean mammoth horn." Gideon looked around for her. The guest room Jorlief had presented them with wasn't overly large, mostly taken up by the bed, a few places to store clothing, and a sitting area in front of the fireplace. There was a dressing screen in the corner across from him though. "Are you hiding behind the screen? Why?"

"I didn't have any clothing with me except my armor, so I thought maybe Mother had something that would fit me. She lent me some tunics to try on." Again, that hint of uncertainty chased her words.

"And? May I see?" Gideon's curiosity was growing. He'd heard her belligerent, mad, scared…bashful was a whole new facet, one he rather thought he might like.

There was a bit of a pause, during which the only sound was the hiss and brush of cloth sliding on skin and cloth. "Gideon…Mother is more than a head taller than me," she huffed out a breath and groaned as she admitted, "It's a dress!"

"Now, I must see." Hissing again at the cold stone, Gideon made his way around the screen, "By the Nine, you're glorious." He might have forgotten to breath for a moment.

Shell momentarily forgot what she was wearing when she noticed what he wasn't, then her mind caught up with her racing heart and she blushed, tucking her loose hair behind her ear bashfully. "I don't actually remember the last time I wore a dress," she said, swishing the skirt a bit. It fell about mid-calf, with a two inch band of embroidery in the Nordic, rather than elven, style. The bell of the skirt hung easily over her hips, hugging her narrow waist and proving once and for all that she'd somehow ended up bustier than her mother, though she wasn't quite sure how that had happened. She was pretty sure Fey wasn't popping out of this thing as much as she was, at least partially because you were supposed to be able to close the neck. "I think this one's a 'no,' don't you?"

"Um…I rather like the effect, but maybe just for our viewing pleasure?" Gideon tried to casually lean against the wall and chest, so he could 'arrange' things so his opinion wasn't quite so blatant, but wasn't having much luck.

Sneaking a look at him, she giggled, then a hint of mischief entered her eyes. "Well, it's about lunch, so I should pick something," she said, pulling the ties on the sides of the tunic. "Which one do you think?" she asked, turning her back to him and letting it slide to the ground.

"I think lunch is overrated, and we should spend longer in bed today." Gideon scooped her up close to his chest, kissing her deeply and lovingly. He backed them up so he could fall in bed, cradling her on his chest.

"Oh, really?" she asked, sitting up to look down into his eyes. "So that wasn't your stomach that I heard growling like one of those damned bears?"

"I hear no growling, bears, stomachs, or otherwise." Gideon nuzzled his face into her bosom, sighing happily. "I want to stay here."

"Here, specifically?" Shell laughed, her hands half tangling, half stroking his hair.

"It's my happy place."

She didn't know how to respond to that besides delighted laughter. "Gideon, you're such a goof," she told him affectionately, trying to sit up.

"I'm your goof, though." Gideon gently kissed the gentle swells to either side before coming up for air. "I love you."

Smiling, Shell slid down so she could reach his lips with her own, " _Tuis amofiol moeya,"_  she said gently, brushing their lips with the words.

Sounding like muted thunder, or a low  _thu'um_ , Gideon's stomach reminded them both he couldn't live on love alone. He still wasn't quite over his months in the Thalmor prison. He groaned into her neck, kissing his way up her jaw and to her lips again. "I suppose that's one vote for the kitchens."

She groaned, "And we'll probably get roped right back into something the minute we're out," she predicted. "How soon is Telki going to want you back, because I sort of want to spend tonight with you pounding me into the bed again."

"Raid the kitchen, and sneak back in here?" Gideon said before the rest of what she said caused his mind to skip and freeze a bit. "Ummm, that could probably be arranged. She'll want time with Rommy, I'm sure."

Smiling with a sweet innocence that jarred with their positions, she brushed a hand down the side of his face, down his neck and over his collarbone. "Want me to make you look a little less…well, bitten?"

Gideon gave her a shocked look. "And hide how tasty you found me? If you do, Galmar is sure to snicker that I did it wrong."

"Mustn't have Galmar snickering," she agreed with false sincerity, sliding off him and skipping back over to the dressing screen. "Got to say, secret or no secret, I might just wear the armor. What if everyone thinks you domesticated me or something? What was it Telki apparently said? 'House trained?'"

"That only seems to apply to the male of the species." Gideon winced at a memory as he located his pants. "Especially ones that forget to stomp the snow off before entering the house."

She giggled, tossing tunic after tunic over the top of the screen until she found one that was supposed to be loose, wasn't quite loose in two particular areas, then thought of Gideon, shrugged, and used a wide belt to make it not lose in the area between and skipped right back out to find her boots.

Gideon took the time to throw his own clothes on—Telki had very thoughtfully packed him an overnight basket, handing it to him the night before with a kiss and a wink that made him blush—and found a familiar pair of knitted leggings mixed in with his clothes. He smiled at the find.

"Here," Gideon threw her the pair of leggings.

"Where did you get these?" she asked, catching them. "They actually look like they might fit!"

"Now, what other woman would be in my room?" Gideon smirked. "And she'd skin me alive if I let your legs freeze. I'm rather attached to my hide."

"Me too," she purred, looking up at him through her eyelashes. Giving a little wink, she went back to the bed and shimmied into the leggings, deciding she might raid Telki's closet if they all fit her that well, and turned to pull her boots on, being careful to remove all the daggers from them first.

Gideon picked one up, fascinated by the craftsmanship. "Has Telki seen these yet?"

"No, why?" she asked, pulling her other boot on. "She struck me as more of an archer."

"I want to watch when she sees them. I predict she will squeal, ask a million questions, then decide she must make you an even better set."

"I don't want another set," she said, gently taking the small knife from him. "These are from my father."

"Ah. Family gift. That she will understand." Gideon's brows furrowed, "Wait, you've met your father?"

"Wasn't supposed to," she confessed, leaning back to watch him. "Nervous? According to Tyr, fathers are supposed to come after men that touch their babies."

"Li'l bit. Every man wants to make a favorable impression on his love's father. That is, when he's a loved father."

Her face became very quiet for a moment. "He's the reason I survived Ilmiyon's training," she confessed. "Honestly, I'm very grateful to him, but…" she shrugged. "He's another Young One."

"Let's see, out of all the Young Ones I've met, there was only one that needed killing. The rest have been well worth my respect." Gideon took Shell's hands in his own, kissing the knuckles. "You say that like it's a mark against him. Is there more?"

"I," she glanced down at their hands, looking a bit sad, "I invited him to come. He didn't want to."

"Shell, what did he say, and is he as…hard to read as Talon?" Gideon had a sneaking suspicion, but wanted some sort of evidence before voicing it. It seemed Young Ones didn't trust each other, or hold each other in any sort of esteem, as if "Young One' disqualified them from everything just for existing.

"He can be if he wants to be," she sighed. "He doesn't mind that I'm out—told me to do what I wanted, but he is a Thalmor, Gideon. He believes in it."

"Well, hell," Gideon sighed, brow furrowed. "He's a Bosmer, that believes in Altmer superiority, and that Creation needs to end? Truly?"

"He's probably out slaughtering mixed Bosmer families as we speak. Well, the human mixes, anyway," she sighed, flopping backwards on the bed. "Does it bother him? Can't tell. I certainly don't think he enjoys it, but he didn't leap at the chance to get out, either. Besides, go far enough back, all elves had the same ancestors."

"Which the Thalmor conveniently forget when spouting their 'Superior Breed' monologue." Gideon shook his head sadly. "You did tell him the Thalmor were headed for extinction via one determined Dragonborn and Company?"

"Nah. Didn't want him to come after Telki," she shrugged again. She found herself doing that a lot in this conversation. "You all would kill him, Aedra only knows what Rommy would do to him, and I just don't want to see that."

Gideon blew a sigh out his nose, rubbing his forehead, then turned to search her face. "The human and Bosmer mixed families. You think he'd come after me, over you."

Wincing, she reached up and rubbed her eyes. "Probably," she admitted.

Gideon thought a long moment. "I just had a viciously evil idea. We could ask Sam to go drinking with him, see if it'd help? No one can keep a secret from Sam. See how much of it is cover to keep himself safe, and how much is actual faith in the Thalmor?"

"There's more, before you start making plans," she winced again, starting to get a headache.

Gideon sat down behind her, noticing the wince, and rubbed the tension out of her neck and shoulders. "Tell me Shell, because I want to save him, even from himself, because he's important to you."

"He's…not a Young One as you—or even we, really—think of them. They took precedent from what we did, our escape. They're operating in Valenwood on their own. They overthrew their keepers, declared themselves free agents of the agenda, and told them to give them instructions, but they'll carry them out their way or not at all."

"I'm, having a hard time wrapping my mind around that, truth be told." Gideon sat and thought a moment, sighing deeply. "I'm sorry, Shell. I don't see how to dig him out of that one." He pulled her back against him, wrapping her in a massive hug. "Doesn't mean I'll give up looking, though."

"Might as well know now that he wants me to join him," she sighed. Behind her, Gideon snickered. She twisted to give him a quizzical look. "What's funny about that?"

"Utterly inappropriate, I know, but I just saw him welcoming you to the family business, and the nice, father approved, Bosmer Young One suitor too."

"Ugh, he was so skinny," she shuddered. "I'd eat that poor boy alive." Gideon laughed so hard, he made Shell bounce.

"Yes love, we know if you ever laid eyes on Tsun, I'd be out on my sorry hide." Gideon kissed the back of her hair.

She thrashed suddenly, pushing back with her legs until he was on his back, glaring down at him. "I said I was keeping you, did I not?"

Gideon smiled up at her. "And I trust you and your love enough to joke. Were I really worried, do you think I could? I am sorry I upset you."

"You were worried when I wasn't in bed," she pointed out, rolling off both him and the bed and tugging on his arm to help him up.

"Not the way or why you think," Gideon wrapped her up in his arms again. "I wanted my Shell for snuggles, and she wasn't there. I was worried she was off somewhere over-thinking things needlessly."

"I was. I was behind the screen worrying that I wouldn't find anything to fit me," she smirked. "Now, are we going to feed you while there's food? I want you to keep up your stamina."

"Well, by all means, let's get the lady what she wants." Gideon hefted her up in his arms, "Hmm, yes. Rommy is onto something." He puzzled at the door. "Though you'll have to do the honors when it comes to doors. What do you think?"

"I think I can get the door and what is Rommy on to?" she asked, confused.

"Well, truth be told, it's probably Telki's doing. Never met a woman that loved hugs more, and what's this," Gideon jiggled Shell lightly in his arms "but a long hug? I have to admit, I like the feel of you in my arms."

The smile she gave him was pure happiness, but it quickly turned to a wink and mock-pout. "You're carrying me, and I'm in a dress. People really  _are_ going to think you housetrained me." She flipped her hand at the door and it opened in a burst of air and green energy.

"Hardly, more like you've gotten me trained as your personal carl. 'Sworn to carry your…'" Gideon stumbled over something in the doorway. "What in Shor's beard?"

"Oh, please tell me I'm hallucinating," she begged, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

"I— _hic!_ —really adore you two," Sam said from his prone position on the floor. "All that tension finally just snapping…Oh, that was one of the most heady— _hic!—_ things…"

"Let me down; I'm not wearing enough daggers."

"Wait, you're not wearing all your daggers?" Gideon gave her a startled look. "I'm…flummoxed and flattered." Gideon gently set her on her feet. No way he was going to let her feel vulnerable with Sam being…well, Sam.

"Shouldn't you be curled around your cupcake somewhere?" she asked him, pursing her lips as she stared down at him.

"Muffin," he corrected with an annoyed frown. "He's my Muffin, and I'm pretty sure he— _hic!_ —gets the whole 'Daedra of Debauchery' thing by now." He slid toward her a little and she kicked his hand away. "Cupcakes are sweets—Muffins are a bit more filling," he added, giving her pause.

"Well, then, are you going to join us for breakfast? On the other side of the table?" she asked him, considering him carefully.

"Okay, apparently  _you_  don't get the— _hic!—_ Debauchery thing. I did eat. I— _hic!—_ just don't always eat— _hic!—_ food. You two," his grin was all sunshine and warm toasty marshmallow, "are delicious."

Gideon looked about for the telltale bowl of water. "Sam, you didn't scry on us last night, did you?"

Sam waved away that worry. "Of course not."

"We didn't ward him out," Shell pointed out dryly. "He didn't need to scry."

It took both hands to hold Gideon's face. "Shell? Do you know wards?"

"Of course,  _mellani._  And I'll be placing some around anywhere I am for the rest of my natural existence," she shuddered, twitching her skirts away from Sam as if he could contaminate them. Reaching up to grab hold of Gideon's shoulder, she swung herself up so that he either had to catch her in his arms again or let her fall on Sam. Naturally, he caught her, squeezing lightly in a hug.

"We're going down to lunch, Sam. You may want to check in with Mercutio. He got some rather interesting news." Gideon called over his shoulder.

"He's related to Rommy," Sam said, staring at the ceiling. "Hey!" he called, reaching listlessly after them, "Carry me too!"

"Get your own!" Shell yelled.

.

* * *

.

Three slightly shocky Khajiit sat around the table, absently eating lunch. Nala had about four giant tomes, three of them conspicuously turned to the pages about Daedric princes. Her tail was twitching nervously, and her eyes glued to the pages. "Honestly, I can't find a thing about it. It's like the best kept secret in the universe."

"Well, I can't imagine the Princes would want it getting out and about, now, would they?" Wemie replied dryly. "Every power hungry idiot in existence would be trying to hunt Daedra."

Ama grinned wickedly, sliding her custom dragonbone dagger carefully along the whetstone. "Sounds like a great way to cull the current herd to me. Imagine, within a week, the Thalmor and Imperial Council, gone!" She underscored her words by artfully disappearing that one and flipped another into her hand to begin the slow process all over again.

"Pretty," said a little voice from a small face right next to her, big eyes focused on what her hands were doing.

"Sithis in a sitz bath!" Ama hissed, the dagger sliding off the whetstone and across her thumb. She drew in a deep breath, and carefully let it out. "Kid, are you going to make a habit of sneaking up on us?"

The child blinked up at her, violet eyes flickering over the sisters. "I've never met you," she said clearly.

"Holy hep cats, but I can guess who you belong to," Ama marveled. "I'm Ama, Telki's sister. She's Wemie, our big sister, and the one hiding in the books is Nala, the other other sister. Can I hug you?"

"Can I play with your knives?" the girl rejoined, looking at them with naked appreciation.

Ama mock-narrowed her eyes at the little girl. "Do you know how to sharpen them the right way?"

The look of thinly veiled annoyance seemed very out of place on such a young face. "Yes," she said, hopping up to straddle the bench facing Ama, holding out her hands to prove herself.

"Good. I hug, you sharpen. Let's go." Ama scooped her up and set her in her lap, where all the necessary items were already laid out. "Do a good job, and I bet Telki'll make you your own set for your birthday."

Picking up the first one and resolving to make this the best job she ever did, Blossom leaned back against the affectionate adult and carefully sharpened the dagger. She had no idea why people wanted to hug her so much. Orien seemed to love it. Speaking of her twin, he was trying to wiggle his way into the yellow one's lap without warning her that he was there first. Blossom smiled a little at the woman's reaction and cuddled into Ama. Maybe she could see why people liked cuddling and hugging them. Orien was adorable. She was his twin. Together they were twice as adorable.

She quickly started plotting to use this to gain access to more sweetrolls.

Nala felt a bump at her elbow, and looked down to see a match to the little redheaded girl sharpening her sister's daggers. "Well hello, Cuteness!" Nala picked him up. "Excuse me, but Wemie got her turn earlier. I think it's only fair I get to cuddle you now. Whatcha think? You can help me look through the books?"

Orien was looking wide-eyed from her to Ama. "You match!" he cried, face breaking out in a delighted smile. "Blossom, they match! We match! We match match!"

Wemie looked from one set to the other. "Oh this is priceless. So you do."

Looking over the books in front of them and pointing the dagger at him, his sister reminded him firmly, "No sharp things."

"You're not supposed to have sharp things either," he pointed out.

"Because I stab people," she replied, undisturbed and obviously quoting something she'd heard a dozen times. She wasn't sure what the big deal was—it had only happened three or maybe five times. Besides, hadn't she been training her entire young life because she was  _supposed_ to stab things?

"Well, right now, you have adult supervision." Ama glared at Wemie's cough that sounded suspiciously like "questionable." "And you're helping me sharpen them. Not stabbing people, and we'll talk later about knife etiquette and rules. Sound good?" Ama had the sneaking suspicion the adorable girl in her lap could teach her techniques.

"If they don't want to get stabbed, they shouldn't be mean to my brother," she said stubbornly.

"Hmm, punching, I can see. Stabbing is probably too extreme, especially given how…slow some folks are," Ama tisked, "They can't help they weren't born smart as us, now, can they?"

"I still don't know you," Blossom pointed out. "You could be dumb, too."

"Kid, I'm letting you play with my precious pretty daggers. Work with me, here."

Blossom paused, leaning her head back to regard the face looking down at her. "I can give you a chance," she finally said. "You're pretty."

"Thank you, you're pretty, too." Ama snugged the little girl close for a moment. "So, do you like stories?"

"I like Telki's stories," she said. Orien was busy cuddling into Nala and deciding he should learn to read soon, since it was apparently very engrossing. Nala would point out the illustrations, and what they meant, telling little stories about them. He liked the big letters that had pretty colors and drawings all about them.

"Well, Telki's a bard, so she has all the best stories, buuut, I'm a sister, and I have all the good stories about her when she looked like you," Ama nodded to Blossom as if sharing very important information.

"Tell me about my kitty," Blossom said decisively, looking back down to what she was doing.

"Um? Okay," Ama shared a puzzled look with both her sisters. Thank heavens she said that to them, and not their aunt, Rihandi's mother. She'd be all day explaining, in excruciating detail, why they were not 'kitties'…even the ones that looked like fourfooted kitties. "Hey, can you tell me one first? Why did you call Telki 'your kitty?"

"She was a kitty. She cuddled me and purred and fit in my lap and we met a dragon together and she nearly fell asleep on Shell's boobs and then we went through a bunch of trees and she has really soft fur that's red like my hair and eyes like mine and she's my kitty," Blossom explained. "She is my kitty," she repeated, giving Ama a little warning look over her shoulder, then transferring it to Nala, "And he is my squishy."

Wemie could only laugh to herself, hand over her face. She knew both that look and feeling. She had been there, done that, when the caravan cubs would tease the 'runtlings.'

Orien sighed, but had a rueful little smile. "Da says I should just go with it," he confided in Nala. Tyr had pulled him aside and explained that his sister hadn't had a lot of friends, and that Pearl had been her best friend for a long time, and then someone had done something that made her think Pearl was gone for good. She didn't want to lose her siblings again, he said, adding that she might have gotten a large dose of Tyr's own protectiveness. That didn't mean it was alright to go around stabbing people unless you were in danger. Orien understood that, but he hoped his sister relaxed enough to not feel she had to be so tough all the time, soon. She was much nicer to be around when she wasn't trying to protect him. He'd also started getting this feeling from the other adults that it was supposed to be him protecting her. He wasn't sure where that idea came from. Blossom was clearly better at that sort of thing, though he was learning.

"Dads are usually wise about these things," Nala agreed, and turned the page, revealing a new illustration she could explain to the little boy.

"I don't want her to stab you," he said, snuggling in a bit more. "You're soft."

"I am very on board with not getting stabbed. You are adorable and cuddlesome." Nala allowed a soft smile to play about her lips.

"Oh, honestly. I've been replaced," Shell groused as Gideon strode into the Great Hall.

"Hardly, Shell. You're the Big Sister, that's irreplaceable. They're just aunts. Spoiling rotten aunts," Gideon consoled her.

"Shell!" Orien scrambled to get down, face completely lit up as he ran over and jumped up and down, eagerly waiting for Gideon to put his sister down. "Giddy! You found her!" Gideon solved the problem by stooping low enough to let Shell pick the boy up. He shrieked in delight as his sister blew raspberries on his cheeks.

Blossom had frozen, little face going slack with shock. "Sissy?" she whispered, all the bossy tough-girl mannerisms draining right out of her.

Ama patted the bench next to her. "Okay you two, come bring it over here. If Blossom doesn't get her turn, I fear for the lot of you. She's sharpening my knives for me."

"Knives?" Shell perked up in Gideon's arms, her attention very caught. Orien giggled at how like Blossom she look, and Gideon put them both down with an indulgent grin that only grew when Orien indicated that he wanted right back up. Shell, of course, was focused on the shiny new sharp things she might get to play with.

"Gift from Telki, never seen their like. Shaped like elvish glass, but it's bone. Dragonbone, is what the card said." Ama handed one of the sharpened ones off to Shell to admire.

Shell's hand dropped very quickly, catching the little fist that tried to hit her midsection. "You went away," Blossom said softly, not sounding angry despite having just tried to hit her. "You left me," that one was definitely a sob.

"Oh,  _bellani_ ," Shell said, taking the dagger out of her sister's hand and handing them both to Ama with a small, apologetic smile. Lifting Blossom up and cuddling her close, she whispered softly in Aldmeris, excusing herself from the table to go further off while the girl hiccupped and sobbed into her front.

"Giddy, I think Blossom's sad," Orien said, standing on Gideon's lap to watch them over his shoulder.

"She is, she's sad because she missed Shell and thought Shell didn't want her anymore." Gideon gently held the little boy so he could see. "Those are a lot of feelings for a little girl to handle, even a strong one like Blossom."

"So are you going to be my brother now?" Orien leaned back and asked. "Are you going to show me more about listening to Kyne?"

Gideon laughed easily. "Yes, I think it is safe to say I'll be your brother, and yes, if your father approves, I'll teach you more about listening to Kyne." He gave the boy a mock-stern look. "Have you been practicing your stretches?"

Looking somewhat worried, Orien said, "Mamma won't let me not do them. And people are talking about sending me someplace, when I'm bigger. A mountain place. Da says no though." Ulfric had gone there, they'd said, to learn to Shout. Orien was already learning how to Shout. He didn't want to go anywhere.

Gideon chuckled. "That is nothing to fear, whether you go or not. I promise." Gideon looked about. "I see a lunch table, but no lunch. Want to help me raid the kitchen?" Gideon's stomach growled loudly enough all three sisters' heads whipped back to him, instead of the tearfully tender scene between Shell and Blossom.

"I'm supposed to wait for Momma," Orien said. "She and Pearl are trying to get some of the stuff flying around the kitchen to stop. Cook thinks it's haunted."

Gideon sighed, "I wonder if Sam can help. Orien, can you stay here with Wemie and the twins?"

"Yeah," he nodded, stepping off Gideon's leg and onto the bench, then sitting there, eyes locked on his sisters.

Gideon cleared his throat, and when not even Wemie turned her head from the scene, called her name. "Wemie?"

"Oh, yeah. We can watch the moppet. Go get Sam." Wemie's eyes never left Shell and Blossom, but a confident arm pulled the little boy over to snuggle in her lap. Gideon raised an eyebrow. He'd have to remember that. He would have sworn she was completely absorbed in the sisters' discussion.

"So, what are they saying?" Ama whispered to Nala.

"Poor baby. She was trying to step into big sister's shoes, but then they got kidnapped anyway, they took her daggers and poisons away, and how was she supposed to take care of Orien without them, and why was she being fussed at for the very things she'd been taught in the first place, more or less. Shell's trying to tell her she doesn't have to be the big sister, she can enjoy being a little sister for a change, and how proud she is of her for taking such good care of Orien."

"Is it terrible that I want to hug and cuddle and protect them both?" Ama sighed, resting her chin on her folded hand.

"I blame Telki. I feel the same way," Nala sighed with her. The tears and words seemed to be slowing down now. Hopefully, both sisters would come out of their heart to heart feeling much better.

"You both realize that Telki probably got it from the same place you did?" Wemie observed.

"Oh, so it's your fault, Miss-I-must-protect-you-all?" Ama's tease was cut short by a sight that she would laugh over for a month of Sundas to come.

Gideon nonchalantly walked back through the room, Sam tossed over his shoulder, headed for the kitchen. Sam seemed content to admire Gideon's flexing buttcheeks, not even acknowleging the three dropped jaws he passed.

That broke Blossom out of her tears. She giggled and hiccupped, "Uncle Sam is so strange," she said in Aldmeris.

"You have no idea," Shell agreed, watching this with amusement, then tilting her head. Sam had the right idea: Gideon really filled out those pants nicely. "Ready to face the world,  _bellani?"_

Blossom sniffed, "Can I have a sweetroll?"

Shell laughed and kissed her forehead. "I'll split one with you," she compromised, turning back to the table, only to pause and lift an eyebrow. "Why do you three look like you just sat through a sappy play?"

Orien pointed at Nala, "She speaks elf too!"

Nala's eyes widened, her mouth working silently a moment, before nudging the little boy affectionately. "Snitch."

His confused wide eyes searched her face, dismayed, "I thought it was a good thing," he said quietly.

"It is, sweetie. I was playing with you." Nala pulled him into her lap for a hug. "I was just embarrassed, because they were trying to have a private talk, and I was kinda stuck here for it."

"Just don't go blabbing it about," Shell said with mock severity, "You'll ruin Blossom's tough girl image." Blossom gave her an affronted look. Shell winked at her and strode back to the table, starting to enjoy the way the skirt swayed around her legs and hips. Maybe that's why Fey wore them so much; they were fun to swish. "And you," she said to her brother, bending over to give him a kiss on the head, "You no longer have to live by the 'snitches get stitches' rule, so don't worry about it. These crazy people actually  _like_ it when you report something wrong."

Nala caught Blossom's eye. She mimed locking her mouth and tossing the key, winking at the little girl. "We tough girls need to stick together."

Blossom giggled, then refused to let go of Shell when her sister tried to put her down, instead helping to hold her plate as she filled it with the common foods that were always set out during the day. "It's like I discovered a monkey," the Bosmer complained, finally managing to sit.

"Now imagine if there were three of her," Wemie snorted, looking at both Ama and Nala with playful irritation. "There was an entire year I could hardly move for the extra growths attached to me." Nala and Ama high fived each other.

"Something tells me that might have been on purpose," Shell snarked.

"Oh, don't let her fool you. She was very handy with a croaker sack." Ama stuck her tongue out at Wemie.

"There were days that was the only way to keep you from wandering off to who knows where."

Looking from one to the other, Shell waved her fork a bit to get their attention. "Alright, so who is who here? I'm Shell, obviously from all the shouting of my name by these two, who you have also apparently met."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Nala, this is my twin Ama, and that overbearing hulk is Wemie, our big sister." Nala went so far as to stand up and give her a proper curtsy, much to Shell's amusement.

"I've met Wemie—though I must say, you're a lot prettier when not scowling—and which one of you has daggers and which of you is into women again, because damn."

Ama howled in laughter, watching Nala blush from neck to eartips. "I have the daggers, she's the one who likes girls as much as boys." Once Ama collected herself, she flipped one into her hand, and proffered it to Shell hilt first. "Telki made them for my birthday. Enchanted them, too."

"Oooh!" Shell cooed as she took it, finally able to give it her full attention now that her midsection was not being assaulted by angry five-year-old sisters. "It's surprisingly light," she said, then flipped it through her fingers in a way that made her little sister goggle like Nala seeing a new spell, "and balanced!"

"Damn, is everyone around here better with my daggers than I am?" Ama pouted. "You and I have a date with the target down by the lake."

Color rose to her cheeks, but she flipped the dagger back to Ama, "Daggers are a speciality of mine," she confessed.

"Until I met you and Talon, I used to think the same thing."

"Oh, please,  _don't_ let us get you down," Shell said quickly, having run into this a lot over the last few months. "We had a lot of training and not much else. The time you spent having fun I was practicing. If given my druthers, I'd have been having fun, too."

Ama tisked. "Alright, make you a deal. You train me in daggers, and I'll train you how to have fun. Deal?"

"Who said I don't know how to have fun?" Shell drew herself up in mock-umbrage.

"Well, it only follows. If I've had more practice having fun, obviously, I'd be better at it and could show you the ropes?" Ama teased.

"Sheesh Ama, I thought I was the twin into girls," Nala snickered.

"What?"

"You're flirting."

"Am not!"

"Oh, you weren't?" Shell asked in perfectly feigned disappointment, making her green eyes as large and tearful as they would go. Considering she'd had the twins to take notes from, she pulled it off quite well.

"Look, if you and Giddy weren't so obviously an item, I'd be perfectly happy being your partner in mayhem at the local tavern picking up guys. But um, I prefer boy parts to play with."

Blossom grabbed the table for balance as her sister nearly fell backwards laughing. "That's exactly what Telki said!" she howled. "Same words, even!"

"Well, she is our triplet," Nala sighed. "Sometimes, I think she's Ama's twin, not me."

"But you and I are such a perfectly match set!" Ama pointed out. "You lob fireballs, and I lob daggers. See? Perfect!"

"I'm confused," Shell admitted, looking from one to the other, "How are you twins if you're triplets?"

"Well, it's easy to see Ama and I are identical twins. Telki was born with us, but she's not an identical. So, we two are twins, but all three of us are triplets." Nala raised her hands in a hapless gesture.

"Sam must be running himself in circles," Shell rolled her eyes, returning to her food. For some reason, the food in Skyrim was so heavy. She could only eat so much of it before she longed for some fresh fruit. She'd gotten very fond of juniper berries since returning to the north.

"Now that is a scary image." Ama finally turned her attention back to her chore. "Hey Blossom, were you going to help me with the rest of my knives, or have I been ditched?"

"I wanna stay with Shell," she said, though she was staring at the daggers a bit wistfully.

"Hmmm." Ama tapped a finger against her cheek as she thoughtfully regarded the little girl and her big sister. "I dunno. Shell, think I can trust her way over there with my spare whetstone?"

Nala had to hide her snicker behind one of her thick tomes, pretending to be engrossed in some old forgotten tale. Wemie shook her head, and went back to her own lunch. Orien wondered if this counted as "being mean" rather than teasing, since Blossom looked so sad. Was this one of those things he should be trying to defend her from? But if it were bad, wouldn't Shell be doing something? And if it were really bad, wouldn't Blossom be holding something sharp already?

"Hmmmm…" Shell pursed her lips and considered her sister. Blossom's big purple eyes looked up to catch hers. "I suppose, if she asks nicely."

"Please!" Blossom begged, eyes swinging right back down to Ama's.

Ama couldn't stop the twitch of her lips as she slid three of her knives and a well oiled whetstone to the little girl. "There you are my little helper. Make 'em sharp enough to cut wit."

"Whatever that is, it will be cut," Blossom vowed seriously, setting to work. "Can I do yours next, Shell?" she asked, falling happily into her task. The blades were so shiny and she liked the scrape of the stone against them.

"You know no one cares for my equipment but me," Shell replied firmly.

Ama's eyebrows rose. "Oooh, now I'm curious. May I see them?" Ama folded both hands under her chin like a mendicant, even wobbling her bottom lip and letting her eyes fill.

"How could I deny another enthusiast?" Shell asked, the empty hand she held out suddenly having one of her small, needle-like daggers in it.

"On, now that is truly a thing of beauty," Ama breathed as she reverently took the dagger. The six inches of polished silver shone like a small star in her hand. Amongst the detailed vines etched along the blade and hilt, she could make out small runes. "Oh, these runes, may I know what they say?"

Shell's eyebrows twitched up as Blossom gaped up at her for keeping that secret from her small, blade-happy sister. "Good eye," she said, tilting her head so that her hair fell over one shoulder and onto Blossom's face, distracting her. "It's a particular way of enchanting things without using actual enchantments. Young Ones have…interesting feelings about enchanting. I'm not sure how it's done, but those will pass through all types of magical shields, even if they would normally ward off weaponry. They also can go through heavier armor than they should."

"May I look at them, I might be able to tell you something of how it works?" Nala's palms were practically itching to get themselves on the daggers now. New magic? Even moreso, enchantments without enchanting? Color her intrigued.

Amused, Shell handed over another of her little needles, still apparently pulling it from nowhere. "I'd be interested to hear your opinion," she said.

Just as reverently as Ama, Nala took the slight dagger, and studied it closely with narrowed eyes. "Sweet Jode and Jone above, but this is fascinating!" After a few minutes of careful scrutiny, she announced, "So, as best as I can tell, the runes themselves carry the magic. They siphon magic out of whatever barrier is in the way, and slip through the 'hole.' From the way it's constructed, it looks like your own magicka sustains the enchantment. Most enchanted items, the magic is imbued into the actual material itself. Hmm, interesting. It seems the silver helps maintain the enchantment. Any other material, and the runes would cut on through it."

"Neat," Shell said, enjoying their enthusiasm, eyes sparkling with mirth as she watched them. She wondered if she'd looked like that when Onda had given them to her.

"Thank you for letting me look at them. It's always fascinating learning something new about magic." Nala handed the dagger back carefully, hilt first.

"Always happy to show off my needles," Shell dimpled.

"Definitely worth showing off," Ama admitted. "They are things of beauty. So, later today at the target? Show me how prettily they fly?"

Shell actually squealed and clapped her hands. "Sounds fun!" Blossom ducked and kept right on working.

"Are you going to throw them at Giddy again?" Orien asked worriedly, peeking out the bottom of Nala's book. That had not been a fun night for him; he'd never seen his big sister so scary.

"Wait, wait, wait," Ama was rubbing her temples. "You threw your daggers at Gideon, and now you two are…a thing? How does that happen? Can I throw my daggers at him, too?"

"Oh, I will cheerfully throw my daggers at you if you try, and it was a misunderstanding," Shell replied with a shrug. "And we kissed and made up soon after."

"She healed him, too," Orien added, nodding. "She said she kissed it better."

"I thought you weren't paying attention!" Shell cried, embarrassed. The Khajiit sisters tried to hide their humor, but not all the laughter was successfully stifled. Nala stayed safely hidden in her books.

"I always pay attention," he replied with a little grin. "And you promised you'd teach Telki."

"Telki doesn't care to kiss me to learn," she grumbled, stabbing her fork into her eggs with a little more force than necessary.

Nala laid a comforting hand on Shell's. "No accounting for taste. However, if you're giving lessons, dibs."

Shell dimpled again and winked just as Sam and Gideon got back. "Heeey…" Sam complained suspiciously, watching them, "You said you were only going for— _hic!—_ keeps."

"She's gonna teach me a heal spell!" Nala pouted. "And it'll help me find my keeps."

"Keep him alive in times of dire need," Shell fell right in, giving Gideon an ironic look, relieved that he didn't look bothered. In fact, his expression held a good deal of amused indulgence.

Nala tapped a finger against her chin. "Shell, are we going to need a volunteer?"

"Not necessarily, but it's always helpful," the Bosmer replied. Sam stared at them like Blossom had the daggers.

Mercutio wandered into the busy dining hall, and almost immediately thought about retracing his steps at all the thoughtful and calculated looks turned his way. All the girl's eyes gleamed with mischief as their thoughts raced to the same conclusion. Daedric Princes weren't the only ones capable of a little lighthearted devilry.

"Hey Merc! Shell's gonna teach me the healy kiss. Do you know it?" Nala gaily called after him.

"Uuuuh, no?" Mercutio really wanted to go right back to bed. This had all the earmarks of a first rate trap.

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Shell gave him the same look she had right before she ran him all over the Spire back when she was still whipping recruits into shape, "Well, now's the perfect time to learn!"

Mercutio heaved a heavy sigh. Yep, definitely should have stayed in bed. "I'm guessing there's no gracious way to get out of this?"

"Weeell," Shell said, taking in his hangdog expression, "I suppose if you really don't want to help someone learn a potentially life-saving spell, you could pass. After all, Sam declined."

"NO I didn't!" Sanguine cried.

"I was so surprised and impressed with his restraint," she went on like he hadn't even spoken.

"There was no restraint!"

"Truly a building of character," she added with a solemn nod.

"I am a reprobate, kiss me!" he cried, grabbing Gideon's leather doublet and finding his Breton form unfortunately too short to do more than stare up at him beseechingly.

Gideon raised an amused eyebrow at Sam's antics. "Sorry Sam, still not my type."

"Besides," Shell went on mercilessly, "Didn't you say in the Flagon that you didn't need healies anymore?" If she didn't know any better, she'd say Sam was weeping into Gideon's front. Since she knew better, it didn't bother her.

"Shell hasn't taught me yet. No use giving me that look." Gideon awkwardly patted the dripping Daedric Prince clinging to his chest.

Amused, she gave a playfully remorseful look, "Oh, dear. I haven't gotten around to teaching you yet, have I?"

"I assumed that's what this particular conversation was all about, that and teasing poor Sam, here." He continued to pat Sam's back, wondering if he'd need to treat the leather again. Sam was soaking it.

"Well, mostly, this conversation was about teaching Nala, but I  _suppose_ you can tag along," she wrinkled her nose at him, eyes twinkling.

"Yes, because teaching me would be such a hardship," Gideon stuck his tongue out at her.

"Fine, be that way," she put her hands on her hips and looked away huffily. "You can get someone else to teach you. See if I care."

"Hmm, maybe Nala will show me, then," Gideon teased back.

"Hey, no dragging innocent bystanders into this. Y'all fight it out amongst yourselves." Nala raised her hands and backed up.

"I wanna learn!" Sam wailed.

Laughing, Shell finally relented. "I will teach whoever wants to learn—except Sam, who doesn't need it." Transferring her glance to Merc, she winked, "No obligation."

Mercutio shook his head. "Unless you've found a way to make me suddenly understand Restoration, I'm afraid all you'll get for your troubles is chapped lips."

Brushing her skirts out as she stood (Blossom was not pleased), she gave him a considering look. "Maybe you really should talk to Talon. I've yet to find anything in the Restoration school he hasn't seen before. If he can hammer it into my thick skull, he can probably show you a thing or two."

Mercutio tilted his head as he thought about it. "It certainly wouldn't hurt to ask. I thought maybe it was a tradeoff for the whole 'limitless' magicka thing."

Nala's eyes bugged a bit, her voice barely a squeaky whisper, but she didn't latch on to the detail Shell thought she would. "Talon can healy kiss?"

"Pretty sure," Shell nodded, then tossed her hair. "Hey, Talon!" she called to the far doorway leading into the kitchen, "You know the Kiss of Life spell, right?"

The Weapons Master actually stopped walking, his arms laden with a basket of food he'd been asked to bring up after Sanguine finally got the ingredients to stop flying through the kitchen. "I shudder to ask what brought on that question."

Dimpling at him mischievously, she said, "I'm taking a turn at teaching."

"Auriel forfend," he muttered, continuing on his way to the sideboard to put out slightly burnt bread, cold boiled eggs, and winter-stored fruit that was all that could be set out until actual baking could occur.

"What started this is Shell thinks you can help me learn Restoration, after an entire College dedicated to the Arts couldn't." Mercutio shrugged, "I'd just as soon you didn't try to teach me Kiss of Life. Healing Hands would be plenty, if I can learn it. I wouldn't be surprised if it was a 'trade off' for the other thing."

"It could very well be," Talon said, looking thoughtful as he arranged things quickly and meticulously. "However, shielding is also part of the Restoration school, and you've demonstrated that you can produce those admirably. I would be willing to try to show you a basic spell or two, if you wanted to see."

"I would appreciate it."

"In the meantime," the mer continued, after a small glance over his shoulder, "I believe you should perhaps assist Gideon in removing Sam from his front."

Sam had all but wrapped himself around the larger man, hiccupping and sobbing with much mucus about how no one liked him. The guards on the door nearest them were shifting in discomfort.

"Sam," Mercutio tried to gently peel Sam away from Gideon. "Wouldn't you rather come cuddle with me than cry all over Gideon? I missed you last night."

Stopping crying entirely, Sam gave him a quizzical look, "You were with— _hic!—_ Telki. You missed me with Telki? Sweet, soft, shapely Telki?"

"Yeah. Being glad I had her with me didn't keep me from missing you." Merc oofed a little when Sam's entire weight landed on him.

He sniffled, "You're so sweet, Muffin. I just want to lick you all over."

"I need that image out of my head," Shell muttered, wincing. Mercutio finally navigated Sam, still octoclamped to him, out of the crowded dining area and back down the bedroom hallway. Negotiations between the two seemed to be ongoing, but now garbled by distance.

"Ya— _hic!—_ know," Sam said, slanting him a glance. "There's a burlesque show going on in Cyrodiil right now. Wanna crash it? They have big cushions for audience— _hic!"_

"Sam." Mercutio gathered his courage with both hands. He thought admitting to him he'd missed him last night was tough, this was twenty times worse. "Do they have a private room at this burlesque show?"

"Usually," he replied after a pause, his glance suddenly sharp and not hazy in the least. The irises of his brown eyes had a red tinge in the dimmer light of the hallway. "Do you want to go?"

Mercutio ran an irritated hand through his hair. "I want to quit worrying whether I'm just a momentary infatuation, or if there's really a chance for an 'us.' The only way that's going to happen is if we actually spend a night together, and you're still there in the morning."

For a long moment, Sam just gave him an unreadable look, then stepped back, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, just watching him. His form flickered for a moment, but remained his human guise. "Don't tell anyone that I said this, but no," he said simply. "We're not going."

Mercutio blew a long breath out, and let his head hang, shoulders slumping. "Oh."

"I made a deal with Telki," Sam said seriously, "Nothing goes forward until you're ready. I heard what you said, yes, but I'm not convinced at all that you're ready, Muffin, and to be honest, that was kind of really shitty of you."

Mercutio slumped against the wall. "Did anyone ever tell you about my…about the first person I ever fell in love with?"

"Kinda. Well, what actually happened was I got yelled at not to ask," he scrunched up his face and scratched the back of his head. That Lydia certainly was protective of her husband. He'd almost forgotten how hard wine bottles were.

"This person was my first everything: first kiss, first time, my world revolved around this person, and I was left for someone better, because I wasn't enough." Mercutio laughed bitterly. "I still sometimes have nightmares that Telki is going to leave me. That's the problem. There is this constant little voice that I am not enough, and now, I have to find the strength to trust the Daedra of Debauchery. I don't know that I can on my own. Not after that. I was hoping, if we did this, and you were still there, it'd be easier." Mercutio finally leaned his head back, and dared open his eyes. There was a very angry, very dremora Sam in front of him. Well, hell.

"That's a lot of hurt in some very small words," Sanguine said, black eyes glowing slightly red. A guard turned the corner and fainted when the Prince waved a hand at him.

"Finding out I was related to Rommy? Made that damned voice louder and shittier." Merc wrapped both arms around himself.

Confusion flickered across the Daedra's face for a moment before realization struck. "Oh, you thought…"

"I want, more than anything, to shut it up and trust you. I don't know how."

The hall was silent as the torches gradually dimmed and brightened again. "I could make you trust me," Sam said, giving him an unreadable look.

"Would I still be me? Or would Rommy wind up yelling at you?"

"I think you're missing the point," Sanguine said, leaning in and placing both arms on either side of him, bracketing him against the wall, "I could  _make_  you trust me. If I wanted to, I could make you do just about anything. I could remake you into another Rommy. I could have you so curled about my finger that you forgot about just about everything."

Mercutio looked at him, slow dawn rising. "But you aren't, because you want me for…me. Oh." Mercutio pulled him in for a hug. "This is where you hug me back, Sam."

"Eh, maybe Telki's right about the spiky armor," he muttered, putting his arms around his cute, insecure human boyfriend and honestly, it was Rommy's influence. And maybe Telki's. All of them, really; they just looked so cute and happy together. It was like the first experience with a bubbly champagne.

"So, the show, or just a cuddle puddle in my room?"

"How much do you like contortionists so covered in glitter they can be mistaken for Argonians?" Sam asked.

"I have no idea, never seen such a thing. Willing to give it a try, though?"

"Oh, good. They hate it when I steal the cushions," the Daedric Prince laughed, gave Merc's butt a quick squeeze, and stepped back enough to wave a portal into being.

"Be honest, one of those cushions is coming back with us anyway." Merc felt lighter than he had in a long while.

"Well you didn't need to come out and say it," Sam said, keeping an arm around his shoulders as he led them right on through. There were indeed private rooms. Well, there were when you were a Daedric Prince that liked to change things a bit for his own amusement. "Oh, look, they got an actual theater. They've been doing well. Last time they were in a tent," he peered out the opening to the stage, where a woman was gazing out at the audience from between her own knees. While standing. "Ooh!" he enthused, "Bendy."

"She reminds me of that Dibellan you showed me that time, what was her name?"

"Senna? Oh, you need to ask Shell about  _her,"_ he shivered, looking like a Khajiit that got into the moonsugar.

"Oh? Why's that?" Mercutio tilted his head; how did she get her elbow in her mouth?

"Shell asked her to get my mark off her. Like most people that meet Shell, Senna was a little more interested in— _hic!_ —other things." He turned, flopping onto a massive bag of fluff and beans that cradled him nicely, all the spiky parts of his armor vanishing as he did so. He left his pants on so no one could cry "foul." This rules stuff was really annoying when he wasn't making them. "To give her credit, if it had panned out like she wanted, and I wasn't watching, it would have worked."

Mercutio settled himself next to Sam on the beanbag. It was heavenly, in no small part because of the person sharing it with him. "But you were watching, and she still got your mark off…Okay, two things, what happened with the first attempt, and how did you miss the second attempt, which apparently worked?"

"Well, in the first attempt our little Bosomer passed every test needed to become a Dibellan priestess but politely declined becoming an acolyte, and in the second…I wasn't watching because I was in a negotiation with the Hists not to invade again," Sanguine shrugged ruefully, pulling Merc close and waving his boots away with a flick of the wrist. "You can't put— _hic!_ —boots on these!"

"Which reminds me, there's a new supermead waiting for you to try it." Mercutio looked down at his hose covered feet. "Where'd you put them?"

"Over there," he gestured vaguely behind them. "Is it flavored?"

"Interesting. Yep, let's say, if Telki did it right, you won't have to badger the Hist anymore." Mercutio snuggled in next to him. "The shoe thing, is that something I can learn, or a 'Daedra only' sort of thing?"

"Daedra only, I'm afraid. You could learn teleport, I suppose, but it's kind of useless without Sight to tell you whether or not you're about to port into a wall," Sam scratched along the side of his nose, as if remembering something distinctly unpleasant. "Ye-eah, better stick to Telekinesis spells."

"Hmmm." Mercutio laid back on Sam's arm. "Well, if it's a portal sort of teleport, why not look through before you step through? Shouldn't there be a way to do that?"

"Muffin, if you want to become a magical architect, more power to you, but I study— _hic!—_ booze, not spell theory," he trailed his fingers lazily up and down Merc's shoulder.

"You're dating a mage, and have been friends with a mage for centuries. How do you not know that this passes for foreplay with the mage set?" Mercutio fluttered his lashes at Sam for good measure, the wide happy smirk firmly in place on his mouth.

Sanguine's mouth actually dropped open as he stared a moment. "Alright, I can't have heard you right, but I am nearly sober and that does things to me. Did you just say 'foreplay?'"

Mercutio leaned into Sam and kissed him. He was much quicker on the uptake this time, hand coming up to cup the side of the mage's face as he turned towards him, a small, hungry sound escaping him. There was nothing of the restraint he'd shown thus far in his kiss, only the promise that it was only the beginning. That was fine with Mercutio. He was ready. Sam had silenced that taunting Void-blasted voice in a grand way. Without its doubts, he found that yes, he was ready for this, whatever tomorrow brought.


	10. Do Wrong to None

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody's talking: the Cabal, Tyr confessing to Fey, even Ulfric has a confession to make.
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> Illustration provided by Sir Douglas of Fir of Deviantart Fame. Why he lets me post his work? I dunno. Ask when you go get lost in his gallery of awesomeness.  
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Amaund stared through the bars at the gibbering lunatic that had once been a knife-for-hire, appalled. "Are they all like this?" he asked.

"No, he's the only one. If I had known he was like that, I wouldn't have bothered having him pulled out," Eirik sighed. The man looked tired. Amaund wouldn't be surprised in the least to learn he had joined the effort to magically retrieve whatever remained of the agents. The man was thorough like that, and unlike other Elder Councilors, unafraid to get his hands dirty when he felt it more expedient. Amaund wasn't sure if he thought that a good trait or not. "The one we pulled from Riften no longer has a tongue, but the mage we tracked to the Pale Pass is set to make a full recovery. Frostbit, but fine. He's waiting to speak to the others upstairs."

Sighing, Amaund followed the former battlemage out of the basement. It was the only place in the house they could keep the man and not hear his howling. His words were unintelligible, though every once in a while he'd start sobbing with laughter, then scream about the eyes, the golden eyes, looking through his skull and crawling around in his head. Amaund shivered, certain he'd have nightmares from that one.

The mage looked up when they entered the room, feet sitting in a tub of warm water and so swathed in blankets he looked four times his original size. His bandaged hands shook as he shoveled hot soup into his mouth, his skin still reddened from cold. Whether that was from Skyrim, or from being ripped through Oblivion from one point in the mortal realm to another, Amaund neither knew nor wanted to know.

"Warm yourself," Eirik reassured the man before he could make up his mind whether to rise or not. "The others will be here to hear your report soon."

The man stammered his thanks through chattering teeth and returned to his soup. Amaund raised an eyebrow at Eirik, who returned it drolly, walking to the window to watch the clouds roll by. With the Council officially disbanded for spring planting, they had little need to meet at night, though they were doing their best to ensure there was some secrecy involved.

Salonia sailed into the room, quick eyes calculating details. Anyone not watching closely would almost have missed the small stutterstep as she realized things were not well.

"Lady Carvain," Amaund greeted her. "I hope your journey wasn't too…taxing." Inconvenient was more like it. It wasn't everyday one was called upon for an urgent appointment they could neither ignore nor explain.

"Spring roads, my Lord Motierre, must I really say more?" Salonia dropped gracefully into an unoccupied chair, her fan fluttering. "My Lords," Salonia graciously nodded to both men, "I know you did not call me here on a whim. What has transpired?"

"So eager for news," Eirik chided her lightly, placing a tea service down on the table before them. He had sent the servants away long before Amaund had arrived. The Breton wasn't entirely sure the Nord had even had any here to begin with. "The others will be here soon enough. Have some tea."

"Eager? No, but I prefer not to let bad news linger." Lady Salonia grimaced, "Always ruins the taste of the tea."

"I have mint," Eirik offered, striding over to the sideboard and retrieving the appropriate canister. Amaund blinked at the action before recovering himself. They were all equals here, he reminded himself firmly, and the High Chancellor was their host.

"Thank you, Eirik, that would be a kindness."

"Well, we're here, what's happened now?" Alexia huffed and looked behind her. "I would have arrived sooner, but I had baggage to pick up along the way. Faustus apparently doesn't know how to drive in spring mud."

Amaund looked up as Alexia pushed her way into the room like she had to shoulder aside a crowd, raincloak swinging about her and getting tangled in Dum's legs as the man stumbled in her wake, trying to tell her urgently about how he knew something was wrong, oh, it must be dreadful!

"Unfortunate," Eirik agreed, taking her cloak himself as she watched him suspiciously, as if she expected him to steal it. "Please, have a seat. Warm yourselves."

"Thank you kindly, it's appreciated." Alexia made herself at home, nesting comfortably in Eirik's sumptuous couch, glaring daggers at Dum Faustus until he took a seat far from her across the room.

Swallowing a bitingly hot mouthful of tea, Amaund turned to the mage. "So, why did you need to be retrieved?" he asked, wanting to take charge before Eirik could completely take over.

"Well," the man put down his spoon, face doubtful, "We were told we were going in to kill a leader and kidnap a couple of brats. Nothing we haven't done before. No one mentioned the targets were surrounded by another company of assassins, or that the brats might well be in training themselves." He rubbed his thigh ruefully. "Little bitch stabbed me."

"What do you mean, other assassins?" Eirik asked, frowning.

"Just that. Knew all our tricks, knew basic operating procedures, and I think they somehow got the Thieves Guild up there to hand us over," he shivered. "Can't think of any other way they'd find us in that warren."

"The news just keeps getting better and better." Salonia looked about the room. If this kept up, she'd need something more bracing.

"What all did you see?" Amaund asked, curious and uncertain. He settled himself in a chair to cover his discomfort. He hadn't thought a simple kidnapping would be quite so difficult. Maybe throwing Skyrim into chaos by murdering Ulfric had been a step too far.

"I was scrying most of it," the mage said, gathering his blanket a bit closer. "My job was extraction, causing magical diversions for the others to get out under, that kind of thing. I was planning to set the upper docks of Riften on fire, but then I go to check in, and everyone in the room with the crystal is dead. Looked in on the man with the next crystal, and some white Khajiit sets him on fire like he's kindling. The next one, there's some Nord giant knocking him off the walkway by yelling at him. Hell, checked in on Pavi and he's fighting some black-shrouded thing that goes in and out of shadows. Picked off two men around him before he even thought to run." The mage was flat out shivering now.

"Divines above, I thought only Ulfric and that, what? Cat…thing could Shout?" Alexia shuddered and wrapped her cloak about her tighter.

"What now?" the mage asked, confused.

"It's a form of ancient Nordic magic," Eirik explained. "It's very difficult to learn."

"What can it do?" Amaund asked nervously, trying to hide the sweat making his hands slick.

Eirik gave him a droll look, "What can magic do?"

"See, that would have been nice to know beforehand," the mage said tiredly. "Er, milord," he added hastily.

"It's just magic," Eirik reminded him. "You can shield from magic, can't you?"

"Normally? Yes," the mage said, looking wary, "but these people had things we've never seen before, and sometimes tricks we haven't seen since the Great War."

"Are you saying Ulfric's allied himself with the Thalmor?" Amaund almost laughed. Everyone in the Empire knew Ulfric's opinion of the High Elves.

"We're doomed. Truly doomed. The Voice grows louder, and all our plans tremble and fall in its wake. We should cease now and beg the Divines' mercy on our souls, before it's too late."

"There, there, old fellow," Amaund said awkwardly, pouring a bit of whiskey into the man's tea. "It's not that bad; Ulfric made his position on the Thalmor clear. Obviously, some of the former prisoners he helped escape—well, funded their escape—learned a few things while away."

Lady Salonia's ever present fan was thoughtfully tapping against her chin. "It could be more than that. One of my little helpers mentioned Ulfric escorting a High Elf lady into the Palace of Kings himself." The fan fluttered open with a snap. "Could some of them have…turned?"

"That would be Lady Feyliin," Eirik supplied, pouring himself a bit more tea. "Tyrlief's wife. She was one of the dissenters imprisoned with them. They brought quite a few Altmer dissenters with them. After the Night of Green Fire, I don't think even Ulfric would leave them there."

"Well, there goes one bit of useful criticism against him," Lady Salonia huffed. "Hard to paint it a rescue of the downtrodden if he's welcoming all and sundry with open arms."

Amaund snorted, "One bit of useful criticism? He's hosting someone set on taking the Throne! If Skyrim were still part of the Empire, that'd be enough to get him for treason."

"Pity they didn't take his head at Helgen, then, isn't it?" Alexia huffed. "If it weren't for the whole 'lost emperor found' nonsense, I'd say good riddance to bad rubbish."

"Now, Lady Vici," Eirik admonished lightly, "Were it not for Tylief's spurious claims, we would have no reason to bring his children under our guidance."

"Well, where are they, then?" Alexia looked around, as if the children were simply hiding in the shadows. "Because from what I can see, all we have is a stirred hornet nest ready to sting us where it hurts the worst."

"Their parents took them back," the mage said with a shiver. "We got them as far as Riften, as I mentioned, but there was a late snow in the pass. That extra day cost us dearly."

Behind her, Dum wailed wordlessly. At Alexia's angry glare, it became somewhat muffled, but still he rocked and moaned incessantly. Eirik walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder, Calming him, before going over to the mage and crouching before the chair, examining the man critically. "These assassins, how good are they?"

"Money can't buy that kind of training," the man said, shaking his head. "At least, not for a company of them. Individuals, sure, but it would take a mint. These are…these are Pentius level. Brotherhood, at least."

"Thank you," Eirik said, standing and looking around. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, looks like we have a choice to make. Should we persist, or should we let them be and hope for the best?" he gave Amaund a short, sideways look as he said that last, and the younger man found himself bristling instinctively, though he couldn't exactly place what had irritated him so.

"Now that we know what we need to prepare for," the Breton said, unclenching his jaw with an effort of will, "We should be able to look for solutions to our problem." He turned to Salonia, "Was this the best group you came across?"

"Darling, if you can convince the Pentius to take on the task, be my guest. This group was the best I could contact," Lady Salonia sniffed. "I'm not some ne'er-do-well just slacking by, Amaund, and I'd thank you to remember it."

"Forgive me, my lady," he said hastily, once again reminded uncomfortably of his mother, "I meant no offense. I simply meant, with this new information, would one of the other groups suit the mission better?"

"With the Brotherhood out of commission, who would you suggest?" Lady Salonia waved her hand vaguely in the air, faint hysteria coloring her voice. "I used what connections I had, searching for a group that could handle something of this magnitude. It's not like failing this task was a viable option. I'm terrified now of what repercussions might be rolling our way. I believe we all know what manner of a retributive monster Ulfric is? This Mammoth-Rider survived thirty years in a Thalmor prison. I don't think he's the forgiving sort either."

"It may be that we can get the Penitus in on this," Eirik said pensively, stroking the neatly trimmed beard covering his chin. "After all, they're supposed to investigate any threat to the Emperor. If Tyrlief made a move against the Emperor somehow—or one of his agents did—they might well take care of that part for us. I'll send some queries out to discover what they're currently doing about the situation. However, they won't do something as public as bring the children here without a visible motive." A rueful smile crossed his face, "The citizens like it when the enemy is guilty before we have them killed."

"So we need to push them into an aggressive action?" Amaund surmised, then glanced at Salonia. "Have anyone for that?"

Salonia's eyes narrowed in thought, composure restored. "Well, now, that depends, Darling." The fan was tapping thoughtfully against her chin again. "Do you want someone to go poke them with a sharp stick, or do you want someone to pose as one of his? Either way you choose, I've got people."

"Posing would be inadvisable," Eirik put in before Amaund could answer. "The Oculatus are always on the lookout for things like that." His sky blue eyes swept the room a moment as he made a thoughtful sound. "Perhaps we're looking at this a bit wrong. What we need may not be a company to take the children, but a company to harry them, get their guards up. Then, perhaps, a specialist to take them when Mammoth-Rider strikes."

"Devious, I like it." Salonia's fan kept its staccato rhythm. "Hmm, let me think on it a bit. There's one or two that come to mind, but I want to do this right, and it won't be cheap." Lady Salonia's eyes cut to Dum, "You'll be willing to help, won't you, Dear? We wouldn't want to make matters worse, would we?"

Dum's moaning subsided at Lady Salonia's cajoling tone, only to nod his head until it was in danger of falling off at her clear prompting. Amaund heaved an inward sigh of relief: Without Dum's money backing them, he wasn't sure they could afford the type of specialist this would take, especially if they needed to inform them of exactly what they would be facing.

"Well, I think that's that, then," he said, setting down his empty teacup. "Lady Salonia, kindly send us word when you've selected someone. I think perhaps we should all pick from your top choices this time. Just to make sure they know exactly what they're getting into."

"Of course." She folded her fan demurely in her lap, bowing her head to Eirik. "If that is all, shall I take my leave, then?"

"As much as I detest such underhanded dealings, this is not exactly a social occasion for lingering," the High Chancellor sighed, giving her a gentlemanly hand to her feet.

"Sounds like it." Alexia heaved herself out of her comfy nest. "Great gathering, Lord Eirik, thanks for the heart attack." She bundled herself in her voluminous cloak. "Come on Dum, we'll see if my man can pull that shambles you call a carriage out of the muck." She thumped his shoulder. "You really should get another one. That one's a wreck waiting to happen, mark my words, and then who's going to warn us the end is nigh?"

Amaund watched them all file out, sighing a little in relief. That could have gone worse. A slight gasping sound caught his attention, and he frowned, turning to stare wide-eyed at the mage, who was shaking and clutching at his throat as if he were choking on something.

Eirik looked at the expensive gear-and-weight Dwemer clock on his mantle. "Ah, timed that perfectly." Catching Amaund's expression, he raised his eyebrows slightly. "I did mention we were being discreet?"

The Breton nodded, unable to formulate any other answer. "I…did not expect…"

"It's just a failsafe, it won't kill him," the High Chancellor said admonishingly.

"Then what…?"

"I don't want him able to talk, either," the man explained, watching as the mage stopped gasping and went slack, staring off into space as drool started forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Ah," was all Amaund said, then hastened out the door.

**.**

* * *

 

**.**

Fey had come to put the children down for a nap over an hour ago. Shell had dragged both Nala and Gideon off to "mage lessons," and Talon had shaken his head and went off to wherever he currently felt like making himself useful, leaving Wemie and Ama the Great Hall for themselves. It was surprisingly private in there, with the walls built to funnel out sound from the Throne area, but subdue it in other places, so that every few yards was its own pocket of silence. Still, when it was empty, there were some echos, and moving to different places could bring to the ear the sound of jingling mail as a guard shifted, or the flapping cloth from a banner caught in a draft.

Wemie decided this would be a good time to oil and repair her leather armor. Ama used the time and space to do some of her stretches. She needed to get out to the pit for her own practice session. She did not need Talon giving her that blank look because she was missing the center again. That caused a shiver bad enough she almost lost her balance.

"Well, that was a heavy thought." Wemie hadn't even looked up. How did she do that?

"I need to practice. Want to go a few rounds in the pit?" Ama smoothly transitioned from one pretzel stretch to another, apparently unaware that every guard near them was paying more attention to the interesting ways she could contort her limbs than their post.

"Well, I suppose that's only fair. After all, the boys put on a show for us." Wemie flipped her armor to check the back. "There's a series of targets around the edges of the pit. You could go practice your throws while I finish this up."

"There's targets down there? Really?" Ama bounced out of her last stretch, quivering like a drawn bowstring.

"Go, throw knives, be happy. I'll be along when I get there."

"I'm holding you to that!" Ama singsonged as she bounded out of the hall.

A deep chuckle behind her startled Wemie, but she quickly squelched it. "Does nobody around here alert another to their presence?"

"Are all three of them that enthusiastic?" Ulfric sat down at the bench across from her, watching her work. "Crafting talent seems to run strongly in your family."

"Dodging questions also seems to be a pastime around here." Wemie finally looked up from her work to eye the Jarl/High King. "I taught Telki her first skills with leather. She eventually outgrew my tutelage. I can only assume, looking at her gear, she found a masterwork trainer somewhere. My skills? Grown by necessity." Wemie went back to her work. "I didn't always have the coin for a proper armorer to look at it."

A grim smile graced Ulfric's face as old memories flitted behind his eyes. "Aye, necessity is often the best teacher, if harsh." He leaned against the table, making himself comfortable. "How long has it been since you saw your sister? Did the three of you stay together?"

"Oh, Nala went off to college, I joined the Fighter's Guild in Cyrodiil. Seemed the best choice given my skill set. Ama still won't tell me where she learned her skills as a counter-thief." Wemie's mouth twisted, "Which in itself tells me where she learned, doesn't it?"

"Counter-thief? Sounds like she took what they taught, and turned it on them, does it not?" Ulfric watched as Wemie turned that over, and gave a slow nod of acquiescence.

"Ama," Wemie stopped a moment, considering her words as she threaded the thick sinew cord through the needle. She checked her perforations were lined up correctly before she started stitching, then she continued, "follows her own code. If she thinks a merchant is a cheat, he might find himself lighter in wares come morning. The nearest poorhouse or orphanage will find a generous donation that same morning."

"You have much to say of your sisters, what of Wemie?" The question startled her enough she paused her stitching. She tied off the last stitch before finding words to reply.

"Not much to tell there. I fight, I am good at fighting." Wemie checked her stitches, and moved on to the next repair. "And I am good enough at leatherwork to make my own repairs." Wemie tilted her head. "Besides, you've known Telki a while now. You probably know more about me than I do. We've not talked of Ulfric yet."

Ulfric chuckled low and deep again; Wemie liked it. It was a good sound, a comforting sound, one she wouldn't mind hearing more often. Remembering Tyr's jibing in the Flagon, she turned her face quickly back to her work as her cheeks warmed. He didn't need to see that or know what caused it.

"What could you want to know that you couldn't read in a dozen or more books, or hear in countless tavern yarns?" he asked.

"Unless it were a tavern yarn of Telki's making, I'd sooner trust old wives' tales. Tell me about Ulfric in his own words."

That request silenced Ulfric as he studied her with suddenly very considering eyes. "For all that you are very different from your sister, you are still so very alike. Where would you like me to start?"

"Where all good tales start, from the beginning, if you please." Wemie set down her finished work, and gave Ulfric her full, undivided attention. Ulfric found himself comparing her eyes to the finest amber, and found the amber falling short. Ulfric shook his head to set aside the bit of fancy, thought a moment, and began his tale.

Right around "And so I challenged King Torygg," the door opened to the sound of Tyr's incredulous laughter. He and Rommy walked in, Telki glued to Rommy's side and his arm around her waist, talking animatedly about something. Still laughing, Tyr glanced into the hall and stopped, looking from Wemie to Ulfric then raising his eyebrows at her with a somewhat smug smile.

"Tyr, I see you and Romulus have reconciled. I'm assuming all's right with the world again?" Wemie promised herself she wouldn't blush under his knowing scrutiny.

"Well, he still has to tell Fey where he's been, I think," Telki teased, comfortably snuggled under Rommy's arm. She was considering moving in permanently, but then that meant giving up her summer home under Gideon's arm. Decisions, decisions.

Pointing at Ulfric, Tyr put on a mock-outraged expression. "And you knew! You've known for months! I should let Betsy spank you!"

"It was not my tale to tell. Aside from that, Romulus did not choose to tell me, but getting you safely out of Alinor made it unavoidable."

When Tyr glanced at him for confirmation, Rommy shrugged. "I turned him into cheese."

Tyr howled with laughter again, falling right down on the bench at the other end of the table. "Please, tell me it was jarlsberg!"

"That's what I asked! But no, he said it was something wrapped in nettles," Telki said.

"Yarg," Rommy supplied.

Ulfric simply shook his head. "Easy to tell you are family. What I want to know, is how Telki is not also blood related?"

Tyr stopped laughing as he and Rommy put on identical expressions of disgust, "Let's not examine that too closely. Thank the Divines it was Merc that started glowing," Tyr said, shuddering.

"It really would have messed up the wedding plans," Rommy agreed, his nose still crinkled in a way that suggested he'd just caught a whiff of something noxious. Growing up in the status-climbing class of higher merchants, he'd seen far too many marriages of kin as some of the lower nobility tried to close ranks. He'd thought it disturbing then and still found it disturbing now.

Wemie shrugged, deciding to add fuel to the fire. "The red hair, the purple eyes, that came from the Dunmer line? Old family tales suggest there may have been one in our family tree, oh ages ago." To this day she teased Nala and Telki about the night they woke her from a sound sleep to gush over how gorgeous the Hero of Kvatch and his family were. Nala had found the ratty old tome in one of the books another merchant caravan was selling, but claimed it was a real prize to actually have the portrait. Most books had some likeness of Rommy in them, but few even mentioned his family beyond that they existed. They'd joked over the Dunmer woman having red hair and purple eyes like their baby sister even back then, and since Telki had been lapping up old songs of the Crisis at the time, discovered her teenaged crush on the historical figure. She smirked pointedly at Romulus; she bet he had no idea. "If that is true, then you, my friend, have a type."

Rommy shrugged, eyes shining, "Incredible women capable of more than they think they are? I suppose that counts as a type."

"Ooooh, you sweet talker, you." It was a good thing both arms were wrapped around him, because her knees were suddenly wobbly. "You're making my knees melt again."

"That's fine," he said, scooping her up and kissing her quickly, "I like holding you." Telki returned the kiss with fervor, her feet kicking happily, and her tail swishing merrily against his legs.

"Ease up, Grandpa," Tyr joked, "you're making me uncomfortable."

"You're not the only one." Wemie got up from her place, her eyebrows rising when Ulfric stood up with her. "I promised Ama I would spar with her in the practice ring. I've probably given her long enough to start pouting, even with the distraction of uninterrupted knife time."

A knock on the door sounded through the space, making Tyr give Ulfric a strange look. "People actually knock here?"

"Present company excepted, most knock." Ulfric hid his curiosity well, though Telki could see it in near invisible tick at his jaw. They waited impatiently for the guards to answer, watching as a short, hooded figure popped their head in and murmured something as the door opened fully. The guards made them remove the cowl before they would escort the person to them.

A short Breton man with thinning white hair and a bald pate looked around curiously. Tyr's eyebrows shot up. "Tim!" he called, standing. "What are you doing here?" He hadn't seen much of the ex-Blade battlemage since their release from the Thalmor prison camp. The Lorekeeper had been horribly drained by Faloniril during the last battle, and had gone on a ship with the wounded and most of the mages with healing abilities.

"Dragonborn!" Tim's careworn face broke into a relieved smile that grew a bit when he saw Telki, though he did look a bit wary of her—last time he'd really seen her, she'd been spitting mad and hyped up on Daedric power. "Er, and Dragonborn. Good to see you two and…merciful Talos, is this your cousin from the escape? You know, you look just like the Champion of Cyrodiil?"

Rommy's lips twitched. "I've heard that, yeah." Telki hid her face in his neck to muffle her snickers.

"I thought you were going back to High Rock," Tyr said, ushering the Breton further into the hall. By the state of the man's traveling clothes, he'd been on the road several weeks, and at least some of that had been rough going. Unlike the other released prisoners, he didn't seem to have put on much weight, either. Tyr was a bit concerned. Telki had noticed his state, too. She wiggled for Rommy to put her down, and immediately set about fixing the man a plate from the sideboard, along with a large mug of warm wassail.

"I…I did," Tim said, looking down and fiddling with the ragged hem of his tunic. Telki set the plate and mug down at his elbow. "Oh, thank you," he said gratefully, taking a big swallow of the wassail.

"And?" Tyr asked, sensing something off. "Did you find your wife?"

"She, ah, she thought I was dead. Twenty-seven years missing and all. She…well she remarried. Ten years or so ago," he looked down into his wassail with a sad expression. "Can't say I blame her. I stayed long enough to finalize the divorce so she didn't have any trouble with anything, then I left. I was hoping…ah. It's all done, now."

Telki patted his shoulder. "Well, if you have no further plans, you're more than welcome here. I know Esbern would love the company, and so would Paarthurnax."

"Well, it would be good to see old Esbern again. He and I—Oh!" he jumped, looking up with wide eyes, "I had a purpose! Telki, Tyr; the Imperials are coming for you! One of the Blades still in the Capitol overheard them hire some men on to go after you both!"

"Little late, old man," Tyr said ruefully. "They came, they died, end of story for the moment."

"Now, what would be helpful, if you had any information that would let us nip the next attempt in the bud." Telki pulled Rommy over so she could sit on him and still talk to Tim. He clasped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder, watching the proceedings with interest.

Wemie studied them, how they fit so well together, and cherished each other's company. She wouldn't mind finding that for herself. Quite honestly, she'd never considered that the settled life was in the cards for her. She was good with a sword, not kids. These kids seemed to like her well enough, though. Little Orien had especially sought her out. Maybe it was time to consider family life. She thought her soft sigh escaped everyone's notice. Ulfric, just behind her, noticed and studied Wemie with considering eyes as new possibilities turned over in his mind.

"That's all they could tell me," Tim sighed tiredly, running a hand through his thinning hair. His gloves were so worn they were missing two fingertips. "I just hoped I could get here before they did."

"Ulfric," Tyr glanced at his friend then paused, studying the jarl for a moment before continuing, "Any objection to me offering him hospitality? He looks like he's about to fall over."

"None. In fact, I insist he stays as long as he wishes." Ulfric nodded to a guard, who immediately ran off to find Jorlief. Tim would have a properly prepared room in minutes.

"Thank yo—" Tim had to stop as a rattling cough took over. Tyr frowned and pounded him on the back to help.

Telki was already reaching in her dimensional pocket. "I got it. Have a sip of this, shug." A glowing bottle appeared in her hand. "Sober Mead'll fix what ails you."

He didn't even pause at the odd name, simply taking the bottle with shaking hands and struggling to drink. The first bit enabled him to take another swallow, then another. He gasped a bit and took a deep breath, looking at the bottle in bemusement. "What is this?"

"My personal cure all." Telki blushed, "Normal heals kept freezing, or getting lost in the bottom of the bag in the dark. So, I developed this. Mead to keep it from freezing, glow mushroom to find it, and all the healing properties I could stuff in one potion. Nutmeg and allspice to make it taste nice."

"Open a brewery," was all he said, enjoying the sensation of his throat not scratching with every breath. He sighed again, seeming to wilt a little. "I am glad you two are alright," he said simply. "I'm sorry I didn't make it here sooner."

"Not your fault, and it just brings home something we'd been neglecting to handle." Telki sighed deep. "Thank heavens we have someone making an informant network now."

"If she ever leaves the bedroom," Rommy snarked quietly.

Telki gave Rommy a rather speaking look. She leaned into his throat to deliver her next words for his ears only. "Room to talk, Mr. Can-I-keep-you-another-night?"

"We are having an important conversation," he reminded her, turning to brush his lips over her cheek. "It would be a shame if I kidnapped you in the middle of it."

"Ooh darn, like the High King and Emperor-to-Be can't handle it without us." Telki leaned up, lowering her voice to a husky whisper guaranteed to send shivers down Rommy's spine. "Tempt. Tempt. Tempt."

"Well, you all have this well in hand," Rommy said, "Goodbye," with that, he stood and rushed out of the room so fast there might as well have been butterflies. Tim gaped after them while Tyr laughed into his arms, crossed over the table.

Wemie stared after them. Turning to Ulfric she asked. "That happen often around here?"

Ulfric shook his head. "Only when she's in town."

"Your sister is sort of a law unto her own," Tyr explained, eyes shining merrily as he propped his head on one hand and looked them over. The sly look he was giving her proved that he hadn't forgotten what he'd suggested in the Flagon, and knew she was thinking about it. He'd seen the slight flush on her cheeks when they'd come in.

"That, I have known a long time," Wemie shook her head, "And if I do not go now, Ama will come looking for me. Gentlemen, I leave this conundrum in your most capable hands." Wemie bowed herself respectfully out with as much dignity as she could muster, slight flush and all.

Tyr waited perhaps two seconds after she was out of earshot to give Ulfric a meaningful look brimming with amusement. "See something you like?" he teased.

Ulfric raised his eyebrows at Tyr. "Even if I did, why would I let you, of all nosy busybodies, know?"

"Pft!" Tyr made a dismissive noise, "You don't need to tell me anyway—I saw that face when you got your first greatsword, when you saw the warhorse you really wanted, and any other time you saw something that definitely interested you."

Ulfric started to say something, stopped, half turned back to Tyrlief. "If you interfere in any way, I will make sure Fey hears every last embarrassing story I know on you, including that time you were robbed in Riften by the Dibellan crossdresser."

Looking a bit like a stunned ox, Tyr simply stared at him a moment. "You ruthless bastard."

 

“Tyr. This is important. Anything I want, I have to go about correctly, for more than just personal reasons. You know that.” Ulfric slumped down at the table, running his hands down both sides of his head, gathering his thoughts as he voiced them. “I have been thinking on this much, lately; what I need and what the country needs. Then she appeared, neatly solving each need without even trying. The perfect opportunity to prove once and for all that Stormcloaks do not mean ‘Nords only’—a woman that can handle the pressures of High Queen with grace and dignity, enough strength even the most stone headed farmer would be satisfied, and a possible Mara’s match? It is a gift from the Nine, and I won’t, can’t, afford to ruin it.”

Gaping at him a little, Tyr shut his mouth with difficulty. "I never once said marriage, I said you were interested," he pointed out. "I did not realize you were  _that_  interested." Maybe he should have, though. While Ulfric had always been careful about any partners he took, Tyr couldn't actually remember him taking up any of the offers he'd been given since he'd returned from Alinor. Galmar had certainly been taking them out to "celebrate with the people" enough for him to have plenty of opportunities. They were Nords; no one would think less of him for picking up a woman for a night, nor think less of a woman for wanting nothing more. While the way he had seemed to have lost interest had worried Tyr slightly, he was under a lot of pressure, and at least part of that would be in choosing an heir if not making one. However, that also wasn't as much of a problem for Nords, who didn't rely exclusively on bloodlines as many other cultures did, which was why he had teased Wemie, who was certainly Ulfric's type.

Ulfric gave him a small half smile. "It feels more like a practice blade to the back of the head." He shook his head. "I didn't dare hope to find someone that was not only what my country needed, but that I could feel connection with; so many state marriages are for convenience or safety or some other damn reason. To actually have hope? I'm not accustomed to that feeling."

Tyr nibbled his cheek, conflicted, "I highly recall you saying on more than one occasion that you'd never marry, because being a jarl's wife is a dangerous and demanding job. Sure she's up for that? I mean, she's Telki's sister, so status isn't really a problem, but…"

Ulfric raised an eyebrow. "I seem to recall you saying something similar about your own lifestyle, yet Fey stands beside you, after surviving what amounts to hell on Nirn." He sat back, the small smile growing. "Yesterday, she broke up a fight between new recruits. Not only did they do the punishment detail she put to them, she then showed them the proper way to swing a blade, because, and I quote 'you're fighting for your lives, not butchering chickens.'"

"Yeah, but when I met Fey I was shocked she'd even talk to me; you're High King and know exactly what you'd be getting her into…though I'm not entirely convinced you know what you'd be getting yourself into," he admitted, then glanced at Tim to find the man had stuffed himself and fallen asleep sitting at the table, still clutching a roll. Tyr leaned over and gently removed it before it crumbled to bits all over the Breton. He wasn't too worried: One look at Telki's face had proven that her caregiver instincts had reared up. He fully expected the man to be better than new before his fellow Dragonborn got through with him.

"Which is why I have not yet approached her on the subject. I think she is an answered prayer, but we've only talked to each other twice now. It is too soon to tell for sure. She seems to think first, then act, where her sisters feel first and act. That will stand her in good stead treading the waters of statescraft."

"I'll try not to screw up your courtship, then," Tyr said, watching him pensively.

Ulfric allowed himself a rare relieved sigh. "Thank you, my friend. Now, shall we move our honored guest to his rooms to sleep off his well deserved meal?"

Tyr slid out of his seat and lifted the sleeping Breton like a baby, "He may not look like much—or weigh much—" he frowned, "but he knew who I was by memory, and sent the documents proving it back with one of Shell's Young Ones. He lasted in that prison for near thirty years, Ulfric."

"I would not be surprised to learn Telki is making plans to add him to her own household, but if he'd rather, he is always welcomed here. Make no mistake; all of those who suffered in Alinor have a place of honor here." Ulfric led them down the hallway, looking for the telltale Jorlief always left for a newly prepared room, and stopped before the door with the gold tassel on the latch.

After a moment, Tyr said softly, "It wasn't your fault, you know."

Ulfric gave him a sad smile. "It feels like it was, and my conscience tells me it was, how then, can I believe otherwise?"

"Tell your conscience to shove it," Tyr said gruffly. "If I don't feel you wronged me, you certainly don't get to. Put the blame where it truly belongs; you have enough to deal with."

Ulfric laughed softly, and clapped Tyr on the shoulder. "It is good to have you home. You were missed, my friend, sorely so." He opened the door, and gestured towards the bed with the covers already turned down. "Lay him there. The fire's already lit, so he should rest comfortably."

"Thank Stendarr—he might be light but he gets heavier with uncomfortable emotional talks," Tyr said, depositing the sleeping man carefully, tucking him in with practiced hands. He was half-Dunmer; they didn't emote quite so much—except perhaps to complain about things—and he'd had a very emotional day.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day. Tyrlief the father." Ulfric leaned against the doorframe and watched his friend's practiced ease with a wistful smile.

"Go win yourself a Lion Queen and I can see you do it," he replied, hurrying out.

"Your lips to Mara's ears, my friend," Ulfric called after him, following at a much statelier pace. It was so good to have Tyrlief home.

"Well, if you want to go pray," his friend said, turning to walk backwards, "I've got to go explain where I've been to my wife."

"It'll take a sacrifice to the Nine to win you safely through that. Think the Giant's camp has any suitable goats we could offer?"

"Don't bother. Orien would never forgive us," Tyr sighed, then vanished into the family wing.

**.**

* * *

 

**.**

Fey wasn't in their room. Tyr glanced around, peeked in the bedroom, then went to check the children's room. Blossom and Orien were curled up in a tight ball of tangled covers, as usual—they'd had their own beds originally, but somehow Blossom had always ended up curled next to her twin by morning—and Pearl was taking notes from a magic tome at the desk, looking for all the world like a very short adult.

"She's upstairs," the girl said quietly without looking up.

"Thanks," he said, gave her a hug because he was making up for lost time, then headed back out into the hall, going up the stairs hidden behind a smaller door at the end of the hall. The rooms above them were probably intended to be a woman's solar, and could still serve that function if the glass was re-leaded. As it was, it was drafty as a cave when Fey commandeered it, sealing it with magic until summer came and the drafts could be fixed. She'd politely asked Jorlief if she could raid the spare furniture, and outfitted the room with several tables and chairs carved with knotwork, some forgotten Khajiit carpets, and benches and shelves wherever was practical. A small caravan stove warmed the place, while curved lamps from the Hammerfell coast gave off warm light, the candlelight somehow magnified by the layer of water between the inner and outer wall of the pear-shaped glass. The steward's eyes had positively bulged out of his face at what she'd managed to find when she'd presented them to him, triumphant and covered with dust.

Currently, she was kneeling on one of those plush carpets, her cherry-blossom dress harmonizing with the colors in a way both contrived and unconscious, her hair braided away from her face to fall in artful waves down her back. The fingers of one hand curved delicately around a pair of small clippers that she applied to the pine cutting in front of her, the small limb tied in a bowed position and planted in a small, square pot. Back in Alinor, she'd had an entire mini garden of full-grown trees no taller than her knee, many of them twice as old as she was. She missed them, and had set about making a new garden of Skyrim's native flora.

"How do you do that?" he asked, stopping, as always, to just admire the picture she made.

"What,  _mellani?"_  she asked, turning the tree slightly to see if she needed to prune anymore.

"You always look like a character illustration from a storybook," he blurted, then flushed a little at how inane he sounded.

Fey paused and gave him a slightly amused look, "You've seen me covered in dust and blood, Tyr," she reminded him.

"I know that," he said, eyes still drinking her in, "but you're never not the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Her eyes warmed and she smiled. She'd heard similar things from many men, and she'd always known their reasons were just as shallow as their words. What made Tyr different was that he'd be saying that even if she were as plain and unremarkable as to be utterly forgettable. Gathering the small pine to her carefully, she rose, returning it to its place beside the window before going over him. He enfolded her in his arms automatically, warming her. "You needed to talk about something?" she asked, leading him over to the carpet closest to the stove, where the air was almost warm. They had spent a lot of time there, laying on the carpet together and watching the aurora through the glass. It was quickly becoming a favorite spot.

"A couple of things," he licked his lips nervously. Fey moved behind him and removed the tie from his hair, gently combing through the blood-red strands with her fingers and separating them out, waiting for him to gather his thoughts.

"I…may have started something by challenging Wemie to go after Ulfric," he started, though she sensed this wasn't the biggest thing he had to tell her.

"Telki's sisters have all been presented with their youngest sister, already married to several partners and with many children. Completely aside from her accomplishments as Dragonborn, they are now being forced to look at her life and examine their own. It is unsurprising they'd first look to remedy the lack of companionship," she said.

"Actually, I think it's more Ulfric that's interested," Tyr admitted. "I mean, Wemie was blushing, but how many people think seriously about having a relationship with a king? Unless they are really self-confident, I mean?"

"Wemie is very steady and a warrior," Fey said calmly, smiling a little at how much thought he was putting into this, "She is kindhearted, but not overly sensitive. I think if Ulfric wants to make her his queen, he's making a good choice." Finishing the plait she had made to keep his hair from endlessly falling into his face as it was wont to do, she sat so that she could study his expression. With her marks, she had employed tricks to make her seem shorter than she was, so that she was looking up at them through her lashes even when she was taller than several of them. Tyr preferred her as she was—liked that she was his equal in height—and she met him eye-to-eye. "What bothers you about it?"

"He asked me not to screw it up," Tyr looked a little frazzled. "And now I have no idea how to talk to her without putting my foot in my mouth. I don't want to scare her off because I can only keep a secret by avoiding it."

He could tell from her dancing eyes that behind the serene, attentive expression she was trying valiantly not to laugh at him. "I do not think Wemie would be frightened off by anything you might say," she said at length. "Ulfric, perhaps, but not you. It is very early to make assumptions about what will be, and Ulfric is a complicated man with a loaded past and much responsibility. I do not know Wemie very well, but I believe her nature to be compatible with both your friend's needs and his country's."

Tyr gave her a quizzical look, "It all sounds so simple when you put it like that. Loaded past. Loaded. Like a potato. Not so bad."

Fey laughed, and he reached out and pulled her to him. He'd had seven years of restricted time with her; he had a lot of things to make up. Making her smile, making her laugh, holding her and loving her and he was going to do dreadfully petty things to the Elder Council if he had to cut all this short to go rule the Empire. Not that he really knew how to run an empire, but he'd been watching Ulfric run a country for the last two months so he at least knew what to look for in advisors while he figured it out. If worst came to worst, he could always ask Rommy to make sure they had no horrible ulterior motives.

That brought his thoughts full circle, and Fey could feel the change in him, the subtle tensing of his muscles as he stilled. "Fey," he began before she could prompt him, "I…learned of something this morning. It's why I was away all day. About my, about Rommy," he paused his halting speech and took a deep breath.

"He's the Champion of Cyrodiil," she supplied, then grinned when he gaped at her. "I studied his dossier just like everyone else. People may very closely resemble their ancestors, but rarely are they identical. And his magic is too advanced for even an extended human lifetime."

"I…uh…" Tyr stammered, then blurted out in a rush, "He's the Daedric Prince of Madness."

"Yes. I know. Lili told me," Fey reached up and closed his mouth with a click of teeth. "And it follows that his inebriated friend is Sanguine."

"You don't  _care?"_  he finally asked incredulously. He'd been expecting her to react somehow. Flippant dismissal was not even close to his vague worries.

"Of course I care, but Grandmother explained his situation to me, and I think Telki is doing a fine job keeping him grounded while on Nirn," she said, tracing her fingers along his jaw. "Sanguine is more worrisome, but he seems to stay away from the children for the most part. Except Shell," her voice lowered slightly and he got the feeling the Daedric Prince of Debauchery had nearly gotten electrocuted a time or two. It was just as well Fey's eldest had greeted the Daedra with her daggers out, really.

"So you're good with this?" he asked hopefully, peering at her.

"He is a good man," she said after a pause, stroking his cheek lightly. "We owe him much. It would reflect ill on us to turn him away when we have held secrets that are, in their own way, just as devastating."

Looking with amazed relief into her golden eyes, Tyr said the only thing that popped into his dazed brain, "I love you."

Smiling so that her eyes gleamed like the candle flames, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. "Show me," she challenged softly. His eyes lighting in that way they never quite had before he'd discovered he was Dragonborn, he pulled her closer and did just that.


	11. O, For the Muse of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon gets his teaching on
> 
> and Nala really likes fire
> 
>  
> 
> illustration from game, made awesomesauce by Evil-is-Relative  
> 

 

It was a brisk morning, the cold of Windhelm giving the lie to the calendar's claim that it was spring. The air was clear with a thin quality that only came with extreme dryness, and Nala was feeling restless, practically buzzing with energy. Sounded like a good excuse to go blow up some straw targets to her, so she flounced out of bed and into a grubby tunic and breeches set she wouldn't mind getting singed. Wemie wouldn't even be able to fuss, since she was always harping at her to get out of the books a bit.

All this waiting with nothing to show for it was putting everyone a bit on edge, forced to rely on whatever information the escaped Young One network or Ulfric's own informants would eventually bring in. That had lead to the arena area getting lots of use by their little group, since the guards tended to use their own practice yard. It was early enough that the usual melee fighters—her sisters and Telki's husbands mostly, and she felt almost bad for Mercutio after watching Shell take a hand at training him (the less said about what happened when Gideon and Shell practiced against each other, the better)—wouldn't be hogging the space. Nala fully didn't expect either Shell or her twin to be up any time before noon: She'd made good on her promise to show Shell some fun and Telki had decided to introduce them to the Corner Club.

Despite the hour, she found the practice pit already in use, but she couldn't say she was disappointed in the least. Down below, one Weapons Master Talon was putting a very determined Pearl through her paces. Nala's breath picked up a pace at the sight. If there were three things she enjoyed, it was children, fire, and watching highly attractive men do impressive things—and the ward arching over the top of the arena was one of the most impressive magical things she'd seen since leaving her last mage college. Talon hadn't been around much the last two days; she almost wondered if he were avoiding them.

Pearl took a deep breath and hurtled a massive fireball at a target on the other end. The explosion billowed upward, curling along the invisible dome over the pit. Talon called for her to rest a moment in Aldmeris, the sound of his voice muffled and warped by the ward, walking over and speaking with her quietly before stepping back. The girl sent another fireball toward the hapless, burning dummy. The explosion was just as large, but more concentrated, engulfing the target and hovering for a few seconds before dissipating.

Apparently not one to yell where it could awaken others, Talon walked over to the girl again, speaking with her briefly. She seemed somewhat frustrated by something, though she didn't act out as some her age might. He gave a slight nod behind them and they backed up to the very edge of the pit, then he threw his own fireball at the target, now little more than just a pole. Fire bloomed from the impact, rolling outward and covering the ground for a good ten paces, remaining for several seconds before dying out.

Nala watched from the walkway above, the fire magic gilting her skin with cherry red and sunset orange in the dim light, sure she was in lust if not love. That was a thing of beauty. It took her quite a while to figure out how to toss a fireball large enough, hot enough, and long lasting enough to incinerate more than one target, and he made it look like a mere cantrip.

Pearl walked up next to him and peered at the burn radius, then very clearly asked him to do it again. Waving her back slightly, he obliged, repeating the spell to the same effect. The girl pursed her lips thoughtfully, then walked up next to him, echoing his stance. He halted her partway through and adjusted her arms, saying something lowly that made irritation flash across her face. When she threw her fire this time, it exploded so large the inside of the pit couldn't be seen through the fire rolling over the inside of the ward.

It dissipated, and Pearl looked even more irritated, blowing a lock of hair out of her face as ash rained down on them. Talon looked about the closest he ever had to laughing, a slight smile at the edges of his lips. Just that was enough to make butterflies dance in the pit of Nala's stomach. On top of everything else she was seeing, it was a good thing there was a railing for her to lean against, because she wasn't sure she could walk at the moment if her life depended on it. She collapsed onto one of the benches, mind whirling.

Nala wasn't a mage for nothing. She was quite capable of drooling and critiquing at the same time. She watched the flows of magic around both of them, and found more than a few pearls of wisdom to incorporate in her own spells while Pearl continued to practice with Talon's guidance. She wondered if he'd be willing to tutor her like that. His skill was nothing like she'd seen before, and she'd pestered the best teachers Cyrodiil, High Rock, and Skyrim had to offer. Of all the high-level mages she'd met, he was the only one that unbent enough to teach, and apparently, teach well, sharing his knowledge rather than hoarding it to dole out in measly dribbles whenever it suited him. The few others approaching his ability she'd met had wanted drudges more than apprentices, and would have regarded the scene before her with contempt and no little astonishment.

Dawn finally crept over the edge of the pit, shining gold on the rainbow surface of the ward and making her heart skip a beat for a whole new reason—it wasn't a cap as she had assumed. With the better light, Nala could finally dissect exactly how it was put together, finding several things there to improve her own wards. She'd read about spherical wards, and had cobbled an approximation of her own that got her kicked out of the Imperial University after a professor insisted they were purely theoretical, but it was nothing like the shining jewel of imperviousness she was salivating over below. Talon was going to teach her that one, if she had to cry all over him to do it.

As if the light had been a signal, a hole opened in the very top of the ward, the swirls of power eddying away from it as it grew, flowing downward and back into the caster. Pearl was looking at him determinedly. "I will figure out how you do that," she said, words no longer muffled by the ward.

"If he teaches you, I want in on it, too," Nala called down, her Altmeris accent strong, but not overpowering. It actually added flare to an already musical language.

"When did you get here?" Pearl called in surprise, switching back to the language of the Empire.

"I have no idea, I was getting lost in the pretty balls of boom and dancing power flows. Three provinces, five colleges, innumerable teachers, and I've never seen anything that nuanced or deadly. I'm in love. Talon, please teach me." Nala decided to show off a bit, and dropped herself lightly over the edge, bending her knees just so from remembered lessons in childhood, dropping safely and delicately on the practice ground.

Pearl giggled, slanting a glance at Talon, who abruptly looked somewhat tired. That was three out of four sisters wanting lessons. He hoped they weren't all going to demand hugs at the beginning and end of them, as well.

"Oh heavens no, I didn't mean today! Just, may I be put on the schedule sometime this week?" Nala looked at him in alarm. There was a tightness around his eyes and a shift in his shoulders that radiated his distress. She didn't like that one bit.

He paused, giving her a measuring look. Pearl looked startled from one to the other. "I have not put together a schedule yet," Talon said after a moment. "I need to confer with your sister as to which children she wishes to have lessons as well, and where."

Nala nodded, "Yeah, I can see that, especially in light of what brought us here." Nala considered a moment. "I have an idea, though I'm sure you'd want to put me through my paces first, but what if we helped? Yeah, you're way out of our league, but they'll be starting from basics, won't they? Could we help with that? Reduce the load a bit?"

"I have no idea what level of training they have," he admitted. Honestly, though her argument for wanting his teachings had been a good one, he had just wanted Telki to stop wringing her tail and looking lost like that. It was highly disturbing on such a carefree person.

"I need to help wake the twins for breakfast," Pearl said, rapidly losing interest in the conversation. Talon would teach her when he had time—and with the rate her body was growing, she had much more than any group of human children. She could afford to wait and practice on her own for a while. Turning, she made her way to the stair and up, still snickering a little internally at leaving her teacher with the obviously infatuated Khajiit. Maybe she wasn't as playful as Shell or Blossom, but it tickled her to see her stoic mentor surrounded by all these people who were so open about every little thought that went through their heads.

Talon regarded Nala for a moment more. "You were planning to train?"

"I was. It's been a few days since I had the time or space, and Wemie is bound to say something if I don't." Nala sighed, "If you weren't so tired already, I'd ask you to at least shield this place. Mine is nowhere near as impressive as yours."

He regarded her for a long moment, wondering what had given her the impression he was that weary. It could be Telki's strong Sight was a family trait, and he found himself somewhat curious to see just what they were capable of. "I can stay," he replied. "I need to be inside the shield to hold it, however."

"You can't tie it off?" Nala looked askance at him, rifling through her belt pouch. She'd expect someone with the sorts of skills he had to know this trick. It seemed obvious to her, anyway. "Does it take a grand, or will a greater do the job? Your company is welcome, of course, but if you're tired, I mean. It'd save on your magicka stores?" Nala shook her head in disgust at herself. She rarely to never rambled like a dunce, but here she was, doing that in front of one of the few mages she respected.

"Magic seldom exhausts me," he said, examining the soul gem with an inward distaste, "I never bothered with spells that could be traced back to me. Any power of yours that you place in a gem can be used to track you."

"Which is why I don't let these out of my sight. However, if the domeward is pulling from here, I'm free to ward me and whoever if my spell goes wonky." Nala squealed at the stack of bales against the far wall. She hadn't seen them from her perch at the overhanging railing. "Oh that's marvelous, I can set up a proper practice run." Nala, with all the pose of a conductor, started telekinising the bales all about the practice pit, moving the various archery targets and dummies to interesting angles and poses, making it a veritable maze.

Talon followed her glance, then returned his to the soul gem. There were some schools of magic that taught that magicka was an extension of the soul. Even were it not true, the idea of putting any part of himself into a soul gem again called up an atavistic disgust he'd rather not examine too closely in company. "If you can ward yourself and whoever else, you can manage to ward me if I simply hold it," he said.

"Of course," Nala glanced over to him, worried curiosity coloring her eyes. She wanted to ask, but knew as private a person as Talon was, her inquiry would not be welcomed. Distraction, then. She waved to her hodgepodge course. "So, what do you think of my practice run?"

His eyes glanced over the course, then her, then his own magic changed the positioning of some of the pieces, making them slightly more challenging to get from one to the next.

She eyed it dubiously. "You do remember I'm not as awesomely trained as you are, right? Or are you looking forward to watching me fall on my butt?"

"I have seen little of you, but what I have seen suggests you push yourself more magically than physically. The two are not unrelated," he told her.

"Yeah, I know. Wemie made sure I learned that before I went off to college the first time," Nala winced. "Wish me luck." She dashed forward, smoothly turning it into a roll that ended with her back against the first bale, popping up to burn a precise hole in the center of the first dummy's head. Not stopping to see the results, she jumped up and over the next bale, rolling into the  _cul de sac_ behind three targets, which she then hit with an area shock spell, hard enough to blacken the bases. From there she rolled, dodged, and tumbled through her course. Some hits were more on target than others, and a few places she was cursing rather creatively as she completely missed, stomping back to make that particular pass again until she was satisfied.

She saved the big fireball for last. She rather hoped it would impress Talon, but prepared herself in case it didn't. She rolled into place, where four targets were grouped together, and blasted them with her biggest fireball, letting it roll languidly over the targets, blooming bright enough to fizzle against the ward he set, leaving nothing but ash wisping away where the targets had been and blackening the ground for several paces around the group of targets.

Nala stood at the end of her practice run, dripping and drained, but proud. She did her best, and that's all she could ask of herself. Talon was over by the first dummy, examining the small, smoking hole she'd left through its head. His golden gaze took in the entire course before landing on her. "You specialized in fire," he stated.

"Yep, always been fascinated with it, especially given how many uses it has." Nala walked, rather limped, over to him. "You like what I did with firebolt."

"I've never seen it before," he admitted, lifting a hand and hovering it over her shoulder, Restoration going through her momentarily, easing the weariness and muscle fatigue.

"Oh, for that alone, I'd beg you to be my friend." Nala sighed happily as the aches and pains melted away. "Thank you. It seemed an obvious alteration to me. Concentrated bolt, localized, take out a single target with none the wiser. I first tried it during a kidnap rescue. Too many of them to take them all on, so we had to use sneak work."

"I think you've already found that what seems obvious to you seldom is to others," he observed, examining her.

"Perhaps, but you're even better than I am. Your ward is a thing of beauty."

"Yet I am not the one that invented it," he said simply.

"I didn't invent firebolt, I just concentrated it. I didn't invent tied off wards, I just altered an existing understanding. I mean, smaller wards are tied off to soul gems all the time. There was one in Nightcaller Temple, according to Telki." Nala fussed with her tunic, missing her mage robes for a change. They had enough cloth to hide her agitated hands.

"New spells are seldom invented from nothing," he reminded her. "Like in this course, you give yourself too little credit."

Nala ducked her head, trying to hide the growing flush. That was the one downside to white fur, flushed skin always showed through. The warm approval coloring his aura was more telling than his tone, and she didn't want to embarrass him.

"Are you finished for the morning, or did you wish to practice more?" he inquired, noting the flush with a hint of amusement.

"If you didn't mind, I'd love to pick your brains about that gorgeous ward you put up." Nala winced as she stretched, "But first, I think I may need to clean up. I do not care for smelling myself."

He nodded, "I will clear this if you want to bathe. We can discuss the ward at breakfast, if you wish. Pearl will likely join in." Ulfric's court mage wasn't taking her seriously yet, and the poor girl was fairly bereft of stimulating conversation.

"I would like that, very much. Thank you." Nala felt positively impish as she gave him the proper Altmer courtesy as she left, tail happily swishing behind her.

Letting his eyebrows rise in amusement, he turned to consider the course. There wasn't a single thing there that wasn't half charred and some of it was almost dangerous. Deciding no one would miss molded straw anyway—half burned molded straw at that—he simply contracted the ward down around him and set a firestorm raging through the pit, funneling upward a moment before dissipating, leaving nothing but ash and heat.

Nala stood in the doorway, mouth hanging open in awe. It was the most glorious thing she'd ever beheld. "Marry me?" Nala squeaked and slapped a hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to say it, but it looked like she got away with it that time, at least. His attention was still on the dissipating inferno he'd used to clear the practice pit. Blushing brightly, she turned and fled into the darkness of indoors.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Nala let the cooling water run over her heated cheeks. Leave it to her to tumble head over heels for the posterchild of repressed and emotionally damaged. She remembered what Erandur had told her of his past. It hadn't been a pretty tale, and if she remembered rightly, they had been bound to black soul stones. She grimaced. That would explain his dislike of soul gems, and didn't that make her feel like twenty shades of an idiot?

But he was charming, handsome, talented, smartest person she'd met to date, and she'd searched three provinces to find someone to teach her. Now she found someone that could, and all she could think about was how hard her heart beat whenever he cast, the little flip in her stomach at the slightest hint of a smile, and how warmed she'd felt when she'd sensed his approval.

It was laughable. What did she know about healthy relationships? Until now, the only ones she'd been able to maintain were those within her family. She'd not found anyone before that called to her like Talon did, though she'd tried. She'd even tried light dalliances, but, as she'd told Sam, those didn't work. Feelings always got involved, and either she, her partner, or both wound up the worse for wear.

So here she was, quietly panicking in her bath water, wondering how she was supposed to keep her cool while talking magic with the one man she wanted to acquaint with her every secret, every dream, and every part of her body. She ducked under the water. If she 'accidentally' drowned herself, that'd fix everything, right? She wouldn't have to figure out how to keep her cool while talking to him, wouldn't have to figure out how to win his attention, much less his love…she could just float away in the nice, warm water and forget it all, right?

Two fingers in the middle of her forehead pushed her head back above the surface. "Well, you fell a little faster than I was— _hic!_ —expecting," Sanguine commented, the tub overfilling as he was abruptly sitting in it across from her, wine glass in his black and red hand. "It was the— _hic!_ —fireballs, wasn't it?"

"Sam!" Nala squawked, jackknifing up out of the water, and scrambling for the towel just out of reach. Inevitably, she tumbled onto the floor in an inelegant sprawl, but she at least had her towel, which she quickly got between her naked bits and Sam's eyes. "What are you even doing in here?" She didn't care if she was shrieking. Please, let Muffin come collect his Daedric Prince!

"Apparently," he said with an amused grin as he took a sip of wine, "I'm keeping you from drowning yourself to renege on our deal."

"What?" Nala sputtered. "Jeez, you thought? Really?" Nala sat down on the edge of the tub, flicking water at Sam while she thought. She was still peeved. "Firstly, I haven't had serious feelings for someone in forever, and he's probably more emotionally scarred than anyone I've ever met, and that includes the Auger.

"That is a monumental intimidation factor for someone who's never successfully navigated a romantic relationship in her life, and since I just  _know_ what my sisters would say, the only person I have to talk about it with is the Daedric Prince of Funtimes. Precisely how much experience with feelings have you got to draw on to help me, here?"

"Oh, very little," he said cheerfully, amused that both Telki and her sister had picked the same nickname for his sphere. "But," he added, pointing to her, "I have seen a lot of couples stick after great sex, so there's that."

Nala covered her eyes with one hand, still keeping her towel in a deathclutch with the other, laughing weakly. "Oh, am I sunk, then."

He grinned at her, teeth startlingly white in his coal-like face, "Well, if you're going to give up that easily, I could always help scratch that itch of yours."

"Sam, you strike me as a one Muffin Daedra, and I have no desire to be a cupcake, are we clear?" Nala gave him her steeliest glare. "And who in Oblivion said I was giving up? A nice little freakout beforehand is normal for life changing events."

Sanguine threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, I knew I liked you—when you aren't filling my Muffin with turmoil, anyway."

"I never meant to fill your poor Muffin with turmoil in the first place, Sam." Nala rubbed her forehead. "It's not fun, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst rival, may all her spells combust in her face." She eyed Sam. Realizing he was a Daedric Prince was vastly different than seeing it, but somehow he didn't seem all that different. "Now, how am I going to politely get you to leave, so I can dress without commentary?"

"Well, there's something I wanted to ask you," he said, flicking water into little peaks.

"Okay?" Nala looked at him curiously. Never in the history of ever did she think she'd be in this sort of position. The Daedric Prince of Debauchery in her bathroom, her naked as a jaybird, and all he was doing was sitting in her bath, asking her a hesitant question? How was this her life?

He pouted at her, "How's Shell at kissing?"

Nala fell back on her stool, laughing. Sam leaned against the side of the tub and admired the quick peek. "Oh Sam!" She pulled the towel tightly to her chest. "Not what I was expecting. Let's leave it at 'very experienced' and 'Gideon's one lucky buck.'"

"I could have figured that out for myself!" the pouting intensified, looking very out of place on a Dremora face.

"You make me very curious, Sam," Nala tilted her head as she studied him. "I mean, you're evidently serious about Mercutio, and yet, you seem very interested in Shell. How does that work in your mind? Are you looking to have a collection like Telki or something?"

He watched her consideringly for a long moment and took another sip of wine, his glass magically refilled. "You're a— _hic!—_ mage, Cupcake, so I'll get technical with you. I'm Prince of Debauchery. Excess. All excess comes from— _hic!—_ one basic desire. So, essentiall— _hic!_ —y, all my domain is fixed in attaining a certain— _hic!—_ state."

Nala's eyes hardened at being called a 'cupcake'. He may think it none of her business and she should butt out, but Daedric Prince or no, his excesses endangered her family. Telki wasn't the only one ready, willing, and able to butt heads with Oblivion. "Nice try, but no go, because you're playing with my family, Prince. Mercutio and Shell are part of this family, and as important as he is to you, as important as Rommy is to you, I'd think you should realize how important it is you, at least, know exactly what you're after, and how spectacularly it could blow up in your face. I was trying to be a friend, not nosey for nosey's sake."

"Sheesh. Firecracker," he muttered, taking another sip. "And here I'm trying to— _hic!_ —speak your language and everything." What Merc had told him about magical theory being a form of mage's foreplay crossed his mind, giving her panic about her upcoming breakfast a hilarious new shade of meaning. Hauling Merc downstairs rather than bringing him breakfast in bed was looking better and better for a variety of reasons.

"Don't think I missed the subtle insult, bub. I may not know romance, but I can read people and verbal cues. You were telling me to butt out, none of my business.  _Family_  is always my business."

Sam looked irritated. "Are you going to let me— _hic!_ —finish? Cripes. You're almost as bad as— _hic!—_ Mara." Nala settled back down on her seat, crossing her legs primly under her towel, and gave Sam her full attention.

"Now…where was I?" he looked confused.

"'My domain is fixed on attaining a certain state,' I believe.'" Nala helpfully supplied.

"Ah, right. So, getting really, really technical, everything people do that falls under the category of 'debauchery' is specifically to make their brains create a certain mix of chemicals that are addicting and necessary for happiness. Love also creates that chemical. My domain does not exclude it, but it's not something I get to— _hic!—_ experience, due to…things." He shrugged.

"I'm guessing trust issues being one of the big ones." Nala's mouth twisted. "Understandable, but sucky."

"I am starved for affection," he batted his eyes at her.

"Sam, I'm sympathizing, don't ruin it."

"Thing is…" he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, "I usually experience love vicariously. I don't go out of my way to make it or break it up like  _some_ Aedra would have you believe, though it happens."

"I can see that." Nala was thinking, hard. "Look, just watching you two, you've got something real with Mercutio. Shell's harder to read, but I'm guessing you're very aware how on cloud nine Muffin is when you're together. Give me a moment." Nala cleared her head, trying to sort what she wanted to say out.

A broad smile crossed his face, "Oh, I'm aware."

"Yeah, but you're also smart enough to know what'll happen to Merc if you misstep with Shell, I'm guessing?" Nala was rubbing her temples again.

Sam sighed, "Cup—er, anyway, you know and I know that the only way Shell will ever sleep with me is if Gideon's involved, if something happens between her and Gideon, or if she simply really, really wants me to shut up. If you tell anyone this, I will do something very embarrassing to you, but I flirt with Shell for the same reason she flirts with Telki; it's fun. Also, she got rid of my mark. Little sore about it."

"Do I look stupid? I'm very happy breathing and being myself, thank you." Nala tucked her towel more securely against herself. "Look, you offered to help me, and apparently came in here because you were actually worried, maybe? I dunno, but I'm offering to give you an emotional sounding board, okay? It's a friends thing. I'm guessing you don't have many of those, either, because trust issues." Nala dared nudge him with a foot. "And I'll accept a nickname from you, when you come up with one you didn't already blab to Shell had negative connotations for you. I'm not a bit of fluff."

His face lit up with enthusiasm, "How about Fluffy?"

"Not-a-Fluffy!" Nala snorted at him, eyes sparkling with laughter.

"Your eyes sparkle. Talon should like that. I did research. Hmmm…" he thought, taking another long drink of wine, then offering her the glass, which was still mostly full despite how much he'd taken.

"Um, Sam, if I take a sip of this, am I going to be capable of talking to Talon at breakfast, or am I going to wake up married to a goat or something?"

"Good point," he took it back and drained it.

"Now, how the Aedra did you manage to do research on Talon's likes and dislikes, that, I gotta hear." Nala squirmed a little in her towel. She still had to figure a way to get Sam to leave, because she was not going to send him mixed signals.

And it was getting drafty.

"Young Ones. Very interesting bunch," he said with a secretive smile. "Very into each other's business, especially since they both love and mistrust every other Young One."

"How could anyone do that to another?" Nala shook her head at the nightmare world they'd been born into. "Again, Talon seems so private, how on Nirn did any of them even know?" She also wondered which one of them, and how jealous she should be they knew that much.

"Talon is— _hic!_ —old for a Young One. They normally don't make it much passed— _hic!_ —their third or fourth working decade. He's a bit of a— _hic!_ —legend." He looked her up and down. "Shall I waylay some of your— _hic!_ —fears?"

"I would not be adverse to being less of a nervous wreck, no." Towel secured, Nala found herself buzzing with nervous energy. Nothing said she couldn't start laying clothes out while she listened.

"Never once did anyone call him— _hic!—_ judgemental. Scary as shit, yeah, but not judgy," he smirked, eyes raking over her again, "And there is nothing in that surprisingly kinky little head of yours that he hasn't seen before."

Nala buried her face in the rose-colored magerobes she'd taken out of her pack. Just what she needed, a Daedra that knew all her naughtiest secrets. She could barely tolerate thinking them, her cheeks were probably the same shade as the robes now. "Sam," her voice was more croak than not, "Please let's not bring up…my proclivities?"

"As long as you remember that should you lose your nerve, I, as a friend, have seen and done everything you've ever thought and then some, and would be more than willing to show you the ropes."

"I can truly and fully appreciate that. Were it not for the inevitable and devastating emotional fallout that would cause, I would be very tempted to take you up on that generous offer, could I quit blushing long enough." Which leggings for the rose robes? She had a pearl grey and a pale blue she tended to favor with them. Which ones would draw Talon's eye?

"Also…" he watched her very obvious decision making process, "Young Ones from Faloniril's estate come in two types—utterly forgettable or, well, really stupidly attractive. If they aren't bred that way, they're sculpted that way. You're better off— _hic!—_ catching his attention doing what you've already been doing."

Nala froze, and sank slowly onto the bed. "Sam, are you implying what I'm afraid you're implying, that they used him for…a honeytrap?" She shuddered.

"I'm not implying, I'm telling. Just about every career a Thalmor agent could have, he's done. One of the reasons they— _hic!—_ like him so much they'd take him back without— _hic!—_ killing him for treason."

"Did any of his children survive? Does he know? Does he have any family left?" Nala's poor mind raced with questions. "Good lord, Sam, how do I help him?"

Sam opened his mouth, shut it, and looked thoughtful. He really should have expected any sister of Telki's to hop right from attracting a man's attention to soothing his hurts. "I'm not going to say any— _hic!—_ more. He'll realize you know and want to know— _hic!_ —how."

"You got anything on you to calm my nerves without leaving me married to a goat or worse?" Nala was nearly hyperventilating.

He snickered, "I'd be happy to— _hic!—_ relax you."

"Still with my self respect intact?" Nala drew in a deep breath, counted to seven, and then let it out. She sternly told her racing imagination to take one thing at a time. All she had to deal with right now was breakfast and a conversation about magic. That was well within her bailiwick.

"Tell you what; I am in a very good mood, so I'll give you a present. It's not even a my sphere kind of present, except in the general happy brain bit," he pulled a bottle out of the air and tossed it to her.

Nala caught it up to her chest, puzzled. How was a bottle of alcohol not his? She looked again, recognizing Telki's writing. "Sober Mead? But, what? Sam?" But when she looked up, the Daedra was gone. Well, at least she could get dressed, if he was really gone, that is. "Sam, I'm going to be very disappointed in you, if you're watching me dress. Go snuggle your Muffin." She'd take the no response as a good thing, and dressed quickly. She liked the way the pearl leggings looked against the rose robes, and pulled a soft yellow tunic on to go under them. She was humming to herself, pulling the leggings up, when she suddenly sat back down, his words playing in her head again: " _You're better off—hic!—catching his attention doing what you've already been doing."_

What? Did that mean she  _already_ caught his attention? Nala held her breath again, and let it out slowly, calming her thoughts. Maybe she'd caught his notice, maybe he just saw her as a potential friend. She doubted he'd think highly of her as either if she kept him waiting. She slipped on her boots, stomped them against the floor, and headed out the door for her breakfast with Talon.

**.**

* * *

**.**

The cook had taken quite a bit of coaxing to get back into the kitchen. He was convinced it was haunted, and had only agreed to return if someone was in there with him. Talon sat stoically at the kitchen table as the man worked until the kitchen aids woke up and came down. He was not happy to be there, and by the time the helpers came down, the cook was almost convinced that a haunted kitchen was better than one with an irritated Altmer assassin in it, staring at him.

Pearl was finishing a breakfast of fruit and rolls when he came in; she gave a little wave, her basket beside her and the three half-grown kittens prowling around, begging for food. He stopped and petted them, since they seemed so attached, and put up with them winding their way through his ankles as he got the food the aids finally put out.

"I don't understand this place," the girl complained as he sat. "Everyone sleeps at least an hour past dawn, and dawn comes absurdly late."

"It is farther north, and nights are longer here," he said, settling himself. One of the kittens jumped to his shoulders and tried to steer his fork closer to its mouth. Talon put the fork down and removed the cat before he continued eating, though all it did was move into his lap and purr. "As to sleeping longer, it is a city, and that is normal."

"It's probably because they're all up drinking all night," she rolled her eyes.

"Altmer do as well," he informed her, "You were simply not old enough to be aware of it. Different drinks, different forms of celebration, but we are not as different as they would have us believe."

Pearl sighed, looking down into her food. "I miss Alinor," she said, very quietly.

"I know," he said simply, without the accusation many would feel at her words. Alinor had held horrors for them, but it was familiar, and the place was not the people. Pearl had never been sent away on missions, and she was old enough, mature enough, to be slightly set in her ways. Such utter differences were difficult for her.

"Did they put the— _hic!_ —mead out yet?" Sanguine called, in his small Breton form and trailing his sleepy-eyed human lover.

"He's the worst one," Pearl snorted, making Talon smile slightly. If only she knew.

"I believe there are some bottles of Telki's brew over there," he told the Daedra. "Some of the guards like to use them for hangovers."

Mercutio couldn't help but snicker, leaning on Sam to muffle it into his shoulder. The look Sam gave him bordered between irate and betrayed. "You don't want me to laugh, don't make such faces. I'm sorry, but they're funny." Merc squeezed him. Sam caught his chin and gave him a slow kiss, showing admirable restraint considering there was a child in the room. Merc hummed appreciatively.

"Breakfast first, okay?" Merc was trying not to pant.

"Of course. Last thing I want is you dropping dead," he scoffed, helping his cute wobbly boyfriend over to the sidebar where the food was very inconveniently located.

Talon watched this with keen eyes. So they had gone further with things. It never ceased to amaze him, the strange company they'd all found themselves in.

Nala came traipsing into the room and took in the scene before her: Talon with a half grown kitten eyeing his plate, Pearl with another kitten, one sleeping in the basket, and Sam helping Merc at the side table. Its very domesticity sent a thrum of appreciation mixed with want so strong, she quickly sat down before her knees could dump her ignominiously on the floor.

Both elves heard the thump, and glanced over quickly. Talon wiped his mouth and came over, frowning slightly. "Do you need help?" he asked, holding out a hand to help her to her feet.

"My dignity, I seem to have dropped it around here somewhere, help me find it?"

Nala winced, taking his hands and holding in a purr of appreciation at the effortless way he helped her stand.

"I believe we all check that at the door when we come in," he said, entirely serious, as he made sure he got her to the table without her falling back down. Pearl handed her a roll with apple butter on it in case she had used too much energy in practice. Magic used more energy than a non-mage might expect, and as a result there were very few fat mages, though they could put away a surprising amount of food. There was a reason forgetful mages tended to be thought of as waifish.

"Thank you, Pearl. Yes, Talon, I think you may be right." Nala took an appreciative bite, gathering her thoughts. Swallowing, Nala turned her attention back to Talon. "So, magic. Where would you like to start?"

Pearl's eyes widened and she perked right up. The cat in the basket yawned and walked over its sibling to investigate Nala, batting at the end of her tail. Talon watched this for a moment. "I think perhaps you should get your food first. Otherwise, I fear you may forget it."

Nala bounced her knee, checking it for stability. "Might be safe enough now." She fixed Talon with a humorous glance. "Think I'll make it?"

"We'll see," he said equably, tearing a roll in half as the kitten tried to get back on his shoulders, meowing at him indignantly when he wouldn't let it.

"Wish me luck." Nala made her way delicately, picking over the food on the sideboard, and returning to the table with her bounty, warming her pat of butter with a small fire spell and spreading it on her roll with honey.

"You said you were educated at several colleges," Talon said carefully, "I am a bit curious why you bounced around, though I can hazard a guess or two."

"I graduated out, rampaged through their libraries, and moved on looking for the next bit of knowledge." Nala blew out a breath, "Wow, said outloud, that sounds so very egotistical."

Talon waved that off with a flick of fingers, "You like to learn; there is no shame in that."

"Thanks. Teachers didn't agree so much, when I'd prove their pet theories wrong, though." Nala winced at the memory of the Ward Debacle.

Pearl snickered, then flushed when Talon gave her a look. "You have much in common with this one, then," he said.

"They used to accuse me of being cheeky," the girl said calmly. Her hands stroked the cat in her lap. The little feline took the opportunity to beg some egg, and actually got it. Nala gave her a sympathetic look.

"It finally got to the point I'd simply hunt books. At least they wouldn't give me odd looks, or ask if I wanted to talk to a mind healer."

"You should see some of the ones Wuunferth has collected here. It's like his own private little Arcanium. I had to sneak in before he'd admit to even having it, though," Pearl said proudly, though with a hint of exasperation. "He acts like he expects someone to burn the lot as heretical knowledge. But he has some really interesting tomes."

"And when exactly were you going to tell me this?" Talon asked her, absently pushing a feline head away from his plate.

"Er…I forgot?" the girl said apologetically. "There's been a lot going on."

"I'll have to see if the kitty pout will work on him then, or get Ama to sneak me in. I've yet to see a locked chamber she couldn't 'wander' into." Nala polished off the roll and started on the apple slices, alternating them with crisp maple bacon. The flavors actually worked together.

"Talon said you alter spells," Pearl said, giving her a curious look. "How do you go about that?"

"It helps if you've developed your True Sight," she admitted. "When you can actually see how a spell is put together, it makes it easier to tweak." Nala formed a firebolt spell in her hand. "A simple firebolt, yes? Well, when you concentrate it down, it's still a firebolt, but it burns hotter, more localized, and actually makes less noise. Perfect if you have to take out a lookout without alerting the rest of a bandit camp." At her words, the firebolt became smaller, brighter, and a fascinating blue with a bright white center.

Pearl was practically quivering as she examined it, for once her face bright with interest. Talon had stilled and was examining it keenly.

"How did you concentrate it, though?" Nala's head whipped around, to find a very dazzled Mercutio behind her, studying her little blue bolt. Sam was right behind him, studying Merc's backside. He seemed very pleased about something.

"To me, magic looks like oh, if water came as threads. To concentrate it, you weave the threads of power tighter. I can do it again, slowly, if you have the Sight to see it?" Nala could feel the heat rising to her cheeks.

"Is that a Khajiit trait, or just your family? Nobody else I know slips into Sight as easily as you and Telki seem to." Merc sat his trencher down next to Sam's, seating himself hip to hip with him.

"I honestly don't know. My sisters and I all have it to some degree, though I think I'm the only one that sought training for it. It's not something discussed when the Caravans would come through."

"It is typically hereditary and not a racial trait," Talon broke in. "Like most things, it can be honed and learned, but a spell is needed to awaken it in those who aren't born with it, thought most mages and priests have at least a little inherently. I have heard some with Sight describing spells as 'weavings.' Perhaps this is what they were referring to."

Mercutio hummed. "Telki sees it primarily as music."

"Wait, she 'sees' music?" Pearl asked, confused. "How does that work?"

Mercutio smiled. "Sheet music. It's a way to write music so others can play it. It's how Telki was able to pick up on the trace placed on prisoners and Young Ones, and manipulate the Psijic's shield to deliver her favorite knock." He still got a good laugh out of that one. He wondered how long it took them to remove her knock.

"She did  _what?"_  Pearl exclaimed, eyes wide. Talon hadn't looked so openly astonished since Alfiq Telki had rained on him out of a blank sky.

Nala had both hands on her belly, laughing so hard she cried. "That's my baby sister! Never half measures."

Mercutio, seeing he had a captive audience, warmed to his story. "So, Rommy had to unbend enough to ask Ulfric for help locating Tyr, since the Thalmor's magical butchery wouldn't let him pinpoint the where. He'd just figured out how strong Telki's True Sight was, and used her ability to track down the 'wrongness' to locate Fifi's estate. He also bumped into the Psijic's hideaway. Telki asked if the representation on the map was the same as their shields. She manipulated the representation, tweaking the shields to play 'shave and a haircut' while Rommy shielded her."

"She used the Law of Similarity to interact with the actual shields?" Talon asked, fascinated.

"That she did," Mercutio nodded. "And then proceeded to embarrass the poor Psijic that showed up six ways to Sundas. You really don't expect beleaguered sighs or blushes from hugging legendary magicians."

Talon smothered a smile with his hand, looking down and nodding once, "That sounds like Telki," he admitted. Pearl couldn't talk at all, she was too busy giggling. Her cats looked positively offended. Nala had her head on the table, tears streaming and her cheeks hurting from laughing so much. She had to take a deep breath and hold it to get herself back under control.

"Okay, so legendary-mage-embarrassing sisters aside, what else did you guys want to know?" Nala wiped the tears from her face, and pulled her hair back behind her ears.

Composing himself, Talon examined her face a moment before replying. "Have you ever considered studying the School of Mysticism? It is not widely practiced, anymore, but I think it would suit your talents better than the current school classifications."

"I honestly didn't know it was an option," Nala traced a whorled knot in the woodgrain of the table. "And I don't know how I'd fare, if I were to go back into a college setting. Being away from everyone again? I don't know if I'd handle it well anymore."

"If your sister is familiar enough with a Psijic to get away with hugging him, she might be able to get at least a few tomes for you," he said. "I do not know how much or how little is still known about the School outside of Alinor, so forgive me if I repeat something you know. You already know several spells from the School—soul trap and telekinesis both originate from it. It was widely considered dangerous for tampering with the very structure of magic itself, and the most common and useful spells—the ones able to be cast consistently—were given to other Schools to do away with it."

"Interesting." Nala thought it over. "I'll ask about tome loans, because seriously, do not think I'd do well cooped up again. I tried it five times, never doing that again. Besides," Nala smiled at Talon, "I know for a fact there's several spells you could teach me. Third tier shield, for example. I want to learn it."

"Also created from Mysticism," he told her, then set a ward on the cat that had somehow crawled unnoticed atop the table to curl up in an empty serving bowl. The cat didn't seem to mind. "How familiar are you with this type of ward?" he asked.

"I've read about them, and cobbled together my own version." Nala noticed Merc studying the kitty's ward intently. "Looks like if you were willing to give a class on it, you'd have more than one interested student."

"Does this not count as a class?" he asked lightly, adding a pale blue tinge to the ward so they could see the waves of power going up the bubble from the bottom.

"Positively breathtaking, but how do you get the powerflows to cooperate like that? Mine keep trying to clash, and I can never get them that stable." Nala's gaze narrowed in on the bubble, following the energy patterns with a ferocious intensity. "I have to give them a, a drain, as it were, to keep them flowing."

"You might do better to start at the second stage, then," he said. "In this one, you may create a double flow, but it creates a second weakness at the top. The second stage," he paused a moment and the energy started swirling, "allows some of the magicka to flow back into and out of you."

"Wait wait, wait." Nala studied the new patterns, then, flick of a wrist, copied it over her own plate. "Like that? Holy hep cats, how didn't I see it before?" She looked over to find a matching newfound understanding on Merc's face. It was positively giddying.

Pearl was staring at her in incredulity. "Please tell me you've cast the first stage before."

"I thought the tiers referred to the number of energy flows required," Nala blushed, "not three different types of shields. Five colleges, and nobody ever bothered to clarify, either."

Talon muttered something uncomplimentary in Aldmeris under his breath. Pearl transferred her goggled gaze onto him for being so demonstrative. "It took me three years to do what you just did," the girl told Nala, sounding a bit put out.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I've been puzzling this shield out since I first ran across it, oh, four or five years ago. This is the first time any of them actually looked right." Nala studied it, then, carefully using claws, tweaked the spell ward around, until it looked like a wobbly kaleidoscoped explosion under a smooth shell. "That's what they usually looked like."

"Pretty," Pearl commented, feeling much better. The cat woke up, yawned, then opened eyes wide at the shield around it, reaching up and batting it with a paw, sending it spinning. "Why don't you tell her what you do with your wards, Talon?" Glancing up at Nala, she winked, "He says he doesn't mess with new spells, but he does half a dozen things with heals and shields that I've never seen anyone else do."

"I've heard something to that effect." Nala took her poor shield down, watching it fold in like a wilting flower. "It's one reason I'm hoping he'd accept me as a student."

"I'll share a secret with you," Pearl whispered loudly, glancing over at her instructor, who gave her a faintly wry look, "Once you get him talking, he can't help it."

Nala turned a surprised and happy smile to Talon. "Is that so?"

"He's quick, too," Merc added. "Taught me to channel shield in the middle of a battle, then twisted it to third stage with a flick of the finger to my forehead." Mercutio shook a friendly finger at Talon. "You are a miracle, and somebody should have told you ages ago."

"I can see this place is going to do its level best to inflate my ego to unmanageable proportions," Talon replied dryly.

"Talon, you'd first have to have an ego, shug," Nala teased.

Considering that a moment, he turned back to what he was doing; in this case, placing a gentle finger on his miniature ward and stopping the rapid spinning. "Would you like to see some things you can do with this stage?"

"Yes, please, and thank you!" Nala bounced over closer to where Talon was making magic happen. "Tell me all your magical secrets, please."

A sound reminiscent of a stifled chipmunk squeal turned heads to the doorway, where a big eyed Telki was leaning heavily back on a rather indulgent Romulus.

"Why didn't anyone invite us to breakfast lessons?" Rommy asked, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her forward.

"You were busy," Sam said with a smirk.

"I believe you are already familiar with spherical wards," Talon told them, idly swirling the surface for the cat to bat at.

"Actually, somebody was hoping you could teach him the third stage." Telki teased, kissing Romulus before sidling off to the sideboard to fix plates.

Rommy flushed. "Haven't managed the trick of it yet," he confessed.

Nala sat back in her seat, whistling. "Now there's a feather for your cap. Teaching a Daedric Prince a spell."

"Do the Illusion thing first?" Pearl begged shamelessly.

"There are a number of things you can do with the ward at this and the third stage," Talon said, hand glowing green for a moment. Tiny, perfect fish started swimming along the surface of the ward. The cat inside went crazy, batting at them and hitting the inside of the ward like it was in a reverse fishbowl.

Nala, eyes narrowed, studied it, then tested it on her plate again. Ghostly fish appeared before quickly fading back out. "Okay, what am I missing?"

"Practice, mostly," he said. "Hold the spell longer to set it into the power flows. Once guided into a shape, they hold it. Some things will not work for this—the illusion must be of moving subjects."

Nala's mouth twitched, "Moving subjects, huh?" She closed her eyes, bringing to mind all the mornings she watched Ama practice, then set the ward again, this time with tumbling Khajiit dancing across the surface. "I only guessed subject familiarity would help," Nala blushed.

"You have a light touch," he complimented her.

Nala looked over to see twin dumbstruck expressions. One on Telki's face, which was slowly morphing into absolute glee, and Merc, who simply remained thunderstruck. "What?" Telki merely slapped both hands over her mouth, trying to bite back the squeal begging to fly out. "Telki, what?"

Pearl rolled her eyes, "He's never going to loosen up if you make a big production out of it," she complained, secretly a little jealous but also starting to get a nagging suspicion that Talon would have been a lot more free with compliments before this had they not been signs of favoritism. She shivered a little: Favoritism had definitely been something to be avoided.

"Besides Illusions," Talon interjected before Telki could respond to that, "You can transport whatever is in the ward," he raised his fingers and the sphere—cat, bowl, fish and all—lifted from the table to rotate above their heads. The cat looked down and yowled.

"Sweet stars above, I never would have thought of that! How brilliant!" Nala's jaw was hanging open. She shut it with a click.

"Ilmiyon discovered this accidentally in his final battle with Gideon," Talon said, watching the cat jump out of the bowl to paw the fish swimming in the bottom of the ward. It held under it's fluffy paws. "I believe Gideon then proceeded to play malletball with him."

"Good," Pearl grumbled.

"I think Gideon was a little disappointed Ill Minion's ward wasn't stronger. It stopped the game before he was done whacking him against trees," Telki opined, somewhat back under control.

"Better," Pearl grumbled again. Pearl found herself ensconced in a hug, as Telki came up and pulled her into her lap as she sat down.

"So, Pearl, how many of these ward tricks can you teach me?" Telki asked.

"None, I'm just learning them," she sighed, relaxing back into Telki's grip. She was still unfamiliar with cuddles, but a few people could get away with it, and Telki was definitely one of them.

"Has Talon capitulated on teaching us yet, or do we need to hit him with a concentrated kitty pout?" Telki whispered in Pearl's ear, trying to make the girl smile.

"I think Nala already covered that," Pearl said with heavy amusement. "Complete with 'I'm in love' and 'ooh, fire.'"

"That's my sissy." Telki squeezed the girl lightly, then her head popped up. "Pearl say what? Back up to that first part?"

Watching the others badger Talon with questions as he focused on not dropping the magical ball of cat he had floating around, Pearl leaned up and whispered in her friend's ear, "Nala's either in love with fireballs, or she really likes Talon."

"I'll go with the third option: both." Telki watched her sister with amusement, "She's one reason I got so good at alchemy. Nothing's sadder than a scorched bare tail." Pearl snickered.

Telki happily held Pearl with one hand, ate with the other, and let her mind wander between the fascinating lesson Talon was giving, and her worries over her sister. She hadn't forgotten Talon's affections had been set on Fey, but maybe he was ready for another option? That bit of praise he'd given Nala was the first she'd ever heard, and she'd spent entirely too long amongst the recruits seeing things she thought were phenomenal, that only garnered an 'again' from Talon. Mercutio was still thunderstruck. She brushed his hair back down for him, snapping him out of it.

Nala was not the easiest Khajiit to read, but she seemed fascinated by everything Talon said or did. Nala watched him as much as she watched the spell construction. If that were all she'd seen, that would be enough to convince her Nala was serious. She just hoped Talon did not break her sister's heart. She'd hate having to stomp a mudhole in him, if she even could. She'd have to talk to Erandur about her suspicions later. He was the most level-headed person she knew, and, belonging to Mara, often had more insight into matters of the heart.

With things somewhat settled, she didn't see why she and Rommy couldn't butterfly home to let the rest know, see her kiddles, and maybe get some Erandur snuggles too. She missed him.


	12. That Would Ascend the Brightest Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rommy's feeling his Sheo, and Ralof is missing his weekend partners
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The water of the lake was brighter this afternoon, taking on a true blue tinge as the sky gave over from unrelenting clouds to slightly relenting clouds. Children shrieking in unbridled enthusiasm brightened the atmosphere considerably, and a courier knocking on the door idly wondered if he was going to get invited in for cider and scones like his cousins had told him he would.

The door opened to reveal a brownhaired girl, just blossoming into adulthood, with large dark eyes and a ready smile. "Hello? Can I help you?"

"I have a letter for someone called…erm…" he squinted, "Selki? Or from Selki…it got a little wet." Poor lad was just getting into the family business and he was already ruining his cargo. He flushed painfully.

"Could it be…Telki?" Lucia smiled gently at the young man. It wasn't just fluster turning the poor boy's cheeks red. It had been a warm day—the first of the year, and he was covered in road dust. Not exactly the impression he wanted to give, especially to friendly, fresh-faced girls with sparkling eyes. "In fact, we were just sitting down to tea, want to join us?"

"Uh," he flushed. "That'd be nice." Lucia stepped aside, and waved him into the main room and long table. "Pappa! Momma! I invited the courier to tea! He's got mail from Momma Telki!"

"Uh, hi," the courier said, face flaming as he took in all the people. He gave a little wave, pimply face paling as he took in the imposing woman sharpening a battleaxe like she intended to execute someone with it. It was his first year running letters; he didn't want to die!

"Oh? Are you by chance Wulfgar's grandson? He told me you might be picking up for his old legs." Erandur came in from the kitchen, large platter with all manner of finger foods on it. Runa followed closely behind with a second platter with a teapot, pitcher and cups.

"Yes," he said, straightening. "That's me. Picking up slack old legs. For old legs. I mean…there is a Telki here, right?"

"This is her home, but she's currently away on business," Lydia offered, eyeing the boy, and how closely he might be watching her little girl. Lucia might be thirteen now, but that was hardly old enough to be thinking about boys, in the woman's biased opinion.

That stumped him. "I'm supposed to give it to her hands only," he said, reciting the family motto.

Erandur chuckled. "Well, I don't know what to tell you, son. For once, one of you has beaten her home. You're welcome to wait a while, if you like. What's your name?"

Flushing painfully again, the lanky youth muttered, "Ragnar," in a voice so quiet they had to lean in to hear him.

Lydia had to stop her sharpening, covering her mouth with her hand. Lucia quickly bit a roll to hide her reaction, and Runa, dear darling Runa, piped in. "Wait, isn't your family from Rorikstead? Did your momma not like you or something?"

"Well, uh, er…I'm just going to go run around until I find Telki," he said, squirming.

"There's a nice shady spot just up the hill, you can see the whole lake and everything. I could show you?" Lucia handed him a cool glass of cider, hoping to keep him from disappearing out of sheer embarrassment.

"I, uh," and now he was blushing for an entirely different reason. There was a squeak from the doorway behind Runa as Haffod, the Guilty Initiate, followed in behind her with wood for the hearth, hazel eyes wide as septims and expression scarily reminiscent of an unwilling witness to an execution. He'd had a long, extremely prejudiced lecture from Gideon on the subject of Lucia the moment the paladin had seen the stars in his eyes. She was pretty, but her fathers were frightening, and her mothers were flat-out terrifying.

"Home sweet home! I swear Rommy, you make that trip faster every time. How are you doing that?" The door almost blew off its hinges as a Khajiit backed into the room, pulled a laughing Imperial mage in by his open robes.

"Is that Selki?" Ragnar asked desperately.

"Telki, her name is Telki," Lydia groused, checking the edge on one side, before starting the patient scrape of the other.

"Hellooo, who do we have here?" Telki turned around to give the poor boy a bright smile. "Oh my goodness, you look like a miniature Wulfgar, are you related?"

"He's my grandfather," Ragnar said, blushes finally cooling a bit. "So you're Sel—I mean, you're Telki?"

"As far as I know, the only one."

Taking a deep breath, he recited in a rush, "I have something I'm supposed to deliver to your hands only," and handed her the letter.

"Thank you, sweetie. Now, did they treat you right while you had to wait on me?" Telki eyed her youngens. "Cause I taught them hospitality, I know I did."

"Theywereallverynicethankyou," he said so fast the words mushed together. Rommy was snickering behind his hand, motioning from behind Telki to Lydia to make the ax a little less obvious.

"Hmmm," Telki considered the poor flushed fellow before her. Honestly, to her eyes, she worried he'd collapse from heat before clearing the lakeside. "Can I at least send a waterskin with you? You still look dusty and tired to me." Telki gestured with one hand, and Runa ran off to bring her a waterskin for the boy.

"I, uh, um, I'm fine," he stammered, turning so red his ears were purple.

"Here, Ragnar, straight from the well. Should be nice and cold." Runa shoved a cold waterskin into his hands. "Hope you'll deliver the next letter. You're cute when you're red."

"Runa, quit making him blush, or I'll tell him about the rabbits and the chicken coop." Telki narrowed her eyes at her little firebrand.

" _That wasn't my fault."_ Runa gasped, "Bye Ragnar!" and ran out of the room, rather hastily.

"Uh, bye?" he stared off after her with bemusement, but his blushing had gone down considerably.

"So, now that my favorite pest has vacated the premises, care to sit down long enough to get your wind back?" Telki looked between Lucia's rather hopeful face to Ragnar's rather unsettled state, and new understanding lit her eyes.

Ragnar opened his mouth and made a slight squeaking sound as Rommy passed right by Telki and guided him back to the table, "Of course he does!" Rommy said, amused and not quite wanting to let the poor thing go yet. "Look at him; he hasn't even finished his cider!"

"Hmm, you're right. Though I think it's a little close in here, with so many bodies crowded together. How is the lad ever going to cool down in this crush? Lucia? Would you mind showing him the patio? I think it'd be nice and cool by the well, don't you?" Someone's eyes were a little too bright, and even she was picking up the cat with a mouse vibe coming off Rommy in waves. She didn't want to be responsible for Wulfgar's grandson flirting with a trip to the Shivering Isles.

Lucia dutifully took Ragnar by the hand, and led him through the house to the shaded patio around the well. Ragnar had just enough presence of mind to grab his cider as they went.

"So, what's the letter say?" Rommy asked, watching them leave with a little smile on his face. At least no one could accuse this Ragnar of being boastful, though he certainly had the "red" part covered.

"Dunno, let's find out, shall we?" Telki happily set herself in his lap, and unfolded the note. Telki's brows drew down as she read it. "It's from the parents of Irrven Nasel."

"Which one was that?" he asked, clasping his arms around her waist.

"The little Dunmer one Ill Minion had Pearl hit in the lineup." Telki found herself having to wipe her eyes. "They're thanking me for getting him back to them. Though really, they ought to be thanking Talon. Seems the little fellow's had a lot to say about us." She giggled, "Apparently, his life goal is to grow up to be a dragon." She put the letter down, a little watery and wonderstruck. "He's doing fine now. He got a happy ending."

"If you haven't noticed, Love, that seems to be your stock in trade." Erandur smiled as he sat down next to her.

"Hey you, missed you." Telki shifted until she was half on Erandur, and half on Rommy. She sighed. "Now this is contentment."

Leaning back so he could see Erandur around her, Rommy asked facetiously, "Do you ever feel like our real value is as furniture?"

"Occasionally, but then, I sometimes think of her as a purring blanket," Erandur teased as he dropped a kiss on an upturned face.

"There is that," he conceded, sitting up.

"So, how about a rundown?" Erandur snuggled Telki against him a little closer.

"Well, we had to run off and rescue Tyr's twins; seems the Empire wasn't keen on a fully grown Dragonborn Emperor they couldn't control, but thought a child emperor might suit their needs, and oh yeah, while we're at it, let's take a stab at taking out that pesky Khajiit Dragonborn and that rabble rousing Ulfric for grins and giggles. We won, but they'll try again. Shell's claimed the Thieves Guild for her own, so, now we have a spy network? Maybe we'll get ahead of the next attempt."

Erandur was rubbing his head. "How many years? And the information deluge still makes my ears ache." He placed his palms flat against his eyes as he sorted it all out. "So, the Empire is Not Happy with a bonafide Great War hero Dragonborn Emperor, tried to claim the little ones to shape their own, and get the thorns out of their sides. And Shell's back. How is Gideon taking that?"

"I don't think they've had their hands off each other for longer than five minutes since they met up again," Rommy remarked dryly.

Erandur sat back and laughed, long and loudly. "So they got themselves figured out?"

"There are still some details that will need to be worked out," Rommy said thoughtfully. "I'm considering attempting a portal network between here, Windhelm, and Riften. It would make life a lot easier if we didn't have to worry about Blossom and Orien stealing a mammoth to come out to see her."

"What? Oh, well, we did expand Hjerim." Telki stretched, tried to stifle the purr, and then just let it rumble anyways.

"That would be useful," he said, leaning his head on her shoulder. "Anyone else starting to feel like we're in the eye of a storm, here?"

"Yep. Rommy? Feel up to making enough heat bracelets for all the little munchkins? You will thank me later."

"Uh, what?" he asked, staring at her. "As in keep them warm? As in take them with us?"

"Uh, yeah? I'm tired of having my family all spread out hither and yon." Telki pulled both her guys in close to her. "I want all my peoples in one place, at least for a little while."

"Have you warned Ulfric? Or at least Jorlief?" he asked, "I realize they won't all be staying at the Palace, but they'll probably spend most of their time there, and he does have a government to run. As fun as watching him try with them around would be, I don't want to have to constantly keep him from insanity."

Telki sighed. "What do you suggest? Because until this mess is settled, they'll be better protected in Windhelm, and running back and forth? I don't see you managing that without wearing yourself to a thread even with portals. I know if everyone's going to be there. Lydia's going to insist going, so that'll give us another adult to keep an eye on things, I could probably pull in a couple other carls, if you think the situation requires it. I wonder if Valdimar and Aranea have had enough peace and quiet and are ready for some mayhem and loud?"

"I can't do direct portals on Nirn yet—there's a trick with chaos magic and portals. They seldom end up where I want. What I can do, is link one door in each spot into a room in the Palace at New Sheoth. Every time someone uses them, they'll be going through the Shivering Isles." Rommy toyed with a napkin, looking a bit embarrassed. It was a little galling that he couldn't quite make portals yet, though it hadn't been too much of an issue before he needed to move more than two or three people at a time.

"M'kay, so, what would that mean for you and being tired?"

"It means after the first effort of making them, it wouldn't cost me anything," he shrugged. "Honestly, stuff like that doesn't tax me unless I'm trying to keep people sane. Or if it involves the structure of the Isles themselves. It's not just me affecting them, they affect me."

"Umkay, so, how is that going to affect the Isles and vice versa with sane people traipsin' through?" Telki stretched and wiggled into a more comfortable position between Her Boys. It sounded like an answered prayer, which made her wonder precisely if there were a pitfall they were all ignoring.

"No idea," he confessed. "They haven't suffered from you all, though. Well, except you, but that was an accident."

"Well, as it stands, we're odd enough we made you wonder, so I tend to think we may be the exception, not the rule. Okay, portals in the Isles, we'll say doable for now. Second question: are the munchkins safe enough here? Windhelm, there's more eyes to see suspicious activity, nice strong walls, blah blah blah. What does my tactical Rommy think?"

He thought a moment before groaning, covering his face with his hand, "That they're safer in the ice cube city."

"Though, I still think linking all the houses through the Isles might be a good idea anyhow. Suppose we need to evacuate in a hurry?" Telki blew a curl off her nose. "Not to mention the constant, 'Telki go here, Telki do that.' Living in Windhelm, that's going to increase, too."

"I'm going to be turning a lot of people into cheese, aren't I?" he asked, only half joking. Idly, he started flicking his fingers at the cubed little bits of cheese Erandur had set out. Each one popped into a miniature cheese Ulfric in various, ridiculous poses. He paused a moment and regarded them, then reined in the chaos magic. He hadn't actually meant to do that.

"It's a cross I'm willing to bear for you." Telki made grabby hands for his face, her lips ridiculously poked out. "My lips don't reach, c'mere." Erandur chuckled behind her.

Rommy shook his head at her, leaned over and gave her a quick kiss, then stood, scooting her the rest of the way onto the Dunmer's lap. "Didn't you have something you wanted to ask our resident love expert?"

"Ooooh yeah, I did. Thank you for reminding me." Telki furrowed her brows at Rommy. Just where did he think he was going?

"You're welcome. Now if you will excuse me, I need to find a convenient place for a door," he said, wondering if he should give up and use a wardrobe. Wardrobes in the Isles were always developing portals on their own anyway. He had no idea why.

"Not without giving me a proper kiss, first, bucko."

"You act like you're starved for affection," he teased, leaning down and giving her a "proper kiss" to make her toes curl. When she was dazed enough that he could pull away, he tapped Erandur, "Tag."

"Will she leave me able to walk, now that you've wound her up so?"

"We still have a Guilty Initiate to play carl and tote you to Windhelm," he said, giving the boy a wicked look, eyes flashing gold from lid to lid momentarily. Haffod swallowed audibly.

"Oh well, that's alright then. I think we'll take activities to the bedroom before his face is permanently tomato colored." With that, Erandur swept Telki up bridal style, and quickly made his escape, before her fingers started really wandering.

Rommy paused, "You alright, Lydia? You've been awfully quiet."

"How's Mercutio?" Lydia never cared for sharing her thoughts. Sanguine had been impressed by just how much lubrication it took for their talk. Though they had talked over most of their issues, it was still a big adjustment, and with them both out of her sight, she worried.

He paused, wondering if he should tell her that Merc and Sam had taken their relationship into bedroom territory or not. Would finding out herself be better or worse?

"That look you're wearing, there's news. They finally took that final step?" Lydia went back to cleaning the kitchen, trying to decide exactly how she felt about it.

"Sam was still there the next morning," he assured her softly, watching her. He found Lydia weirdly difficult to read sometimes.

"There's things about being the house mother I love. I love that I spend every day with them, I love that it's me they rely on, that I'm the shield between them and whatever comes, but it also comes with a hefty price, that I'm not there with my spouses. Having Erandur home these few days, I enjoyed it, but damn if I didn't miss Mercutio, too. And then Sam." Lydia folded her arms on the rim of the sink, resting her head. "Even after that talk we had, I'm scared that Sam's going to undo all the hard work we've put into building Merc back up."

"Actually," Rommy blinked, realizing something, "last time I saw him, he seemed a lot less anxious than normal. True, he was learning about magic, but I haven't really seen him that relaxed before."

Lydia turned back around. "Really?"

"Yes," he said, looking thoughtful. "I wonder what Sam did?" He hoped it hadn't included Charm spells, or he was going to have to do something Sam wouldn't like, like order the Girls not to visit the Myriad Realms of Revelry for a year, or punch him in the face. Glancing up at her, he decided, since she was being so forthcoming, to broach something else he'd been wondering about. "Ready to meet Shell?" Lydia had not been in on the discussion when they agreed to let her into the marriage, if she wanted. Rommy wasn't sure how she felt about that—about any of it, really—all he did know was that something had happened between her and Gideon that had them both feeling awkward around each other for as long as he'd known them.

"I suppose so. You all have certainly been talking her up to me." Lydia shook her head. "I don't know what to make of it, her being able to…get him to consider it when I couldn't. I still resent him a little for it."

"If it makes you feel any better, I was in his head for some of it. He felt a bit like a stunned ox, sometimes," Rommy told her ruefully. "I don't think he set out to fall for her, and he certainly didn't intend to hurt you."

Lydia blew out a long breath. "I know that, but it doesn't change the fact I wasn't good enough, now does it?" She pointed a finger at him. "I know, it makes no sense, and probably isn't what really happened, but you know as well as I do that feelings often don't care a thing for reason or reality, and go their merry way despite it. I know that's not what it was, but I still have to work through it."

"Is this going to help or hinder?" he asked worriedly. He liked Lydia, despite not knowing what she was thinking half the time (rather refreshing, actually), and was a little distressed to see her so upset. She had been somewhat hurt about Shell, though she'd welcome Rommy with open arms after a few drinks and about of week of being convinced it was all a practical joke. She'd come out of that and tried to thrash him after the cheese incident: Good thing the kids had mostly thought it was hilarious rather than frightening, or there wouldn't have been anywhere in Nirn, Oblivion, or Aetherius for him to hide.

"I really can't tell you that until I've been around her, Romulus. You dry and put up, I'll wash?" She handed him a dish towel.

"Look on the bright side: she's not a Daedra?" he tried, taking the towel. "Or is that me putting my foot in my mouth?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure. The most often heard descriptor of this woman I've heard is 'Evil Telki', and frankly, I find that more frightening than 'daedra.'"

Rommy laughed, drying a plate from where she'd set it to drip-dry before the conversation started and sending it floating back to its place on the shelf as he grabbed another. "She's calmed down some now that she's not under constant threat of imminent death."

"I can definitely see how that would improve one's outlook on life." Lydia methodically soaped the next dish, thinking. "Do you think she and I could get along, honest assessment?"

"Get along? Yes. You're both adults and know how to not be petty. Be friends? I don't know," he said honestly. "You don't have a whole lot in common."

Lydia thought about that as she washed dishes quietly for a while. "Well, seems my best friendships, and love life to think of it, comes from those with which I have the  _least_  in common."

"I…don't know what to say that won't be putting my foot back in my mouth so is there an unused wardrobe around here?"

Lydia's eyebrows rose as a smile bloomed on her face. "Romulus, what on Nirn just occurred to you?"

"Wardrobes. They like having portals. Give in to the inevitable, and we can move it around!" he said, sending the rest of the now dry plates floating off to their destinations. One turned into a lizard before it got there. Oops.

"Let me rephrase that: what horrifically foot in mouth thing are you resisting saying?" Lydia pulled the plug on the basin, after checking no dishes or utensils had been left in the bottom. She turned and folded her arms across her chest, "Then I'll show you where the wardrobe you are looking for is stored."

"Erm…Just that, if you can do more than get along, it might be less friendship and more love life," he shrugged.

Lydia felt as if someone had hit her in the back of the head with a shield. That possibility hadn't even occurred to her. "Oh."

Rommy glanced over and grinned a bit at the poleaxed look on her face. "Expect flirting," he warned.

"I'm, I think, I'm surprisingly okay with that." Lydia looked bemused.

"Good, because she still flirts with Telki even after being told Telki's not into girls," he rubbed the back of his neck, "Not that the two of them aren't completely fine with driving all of us up the wall with insinuation." Merc had told him about the Forsworn fashion show they had planned. Sam's eyes had looked fit to pop right out of his head.

Lydia considered that, and then had to chuckle. Rommy tossed the towel at her, "Heartless women," he teased.

"Ah, but if we didn't tease you, then we'd be heartless for ignoring you," Lydia replied when she'd recovered herself, flapping the towel at Rommy before folding it and laying it on the counter.

"True," he grinned, getting up from leaning against the counter and giving her a once-over, "So if you've decided to include women in your tastes, I have half a dozen Saints and twice that many Seducers who wanted me to pass on their compliments."

"Oh my, didn't see that one coming," Lydia shook her head.

"They are getting entirely too much pleasure out of me now having a social life," he admitted. "Next thing you know, they'll be coming down here to plan parties."

"I think a lot of it might be that they're happy for you, though."

"Oh, that reminds me," he shook his head, "I need to kidnap Ralof. I only met the man once, so I have no idea where to find him. Anyway," he rubbed his hands together. "Bring on the wardrobe!"

"It's back here, in storage. Why do you need to kidnap Ralof?" Lydia's brows drew down in puzzlement as she led Rommy to the 'everything' room. "Last I heard, he lived in Riverwood with his sister's family when not attending Ulfric. That's not far from here."

"Oh, good. I can invite her to the wedding," he nodded, following her to the storage area.

"Rommy, who's getting married, and why do you need to kidnap Ralof?" Lydia wondered if someone's eyes would be shining like gold lamps if she turned around.

"I don't like it when men don't take responsibility," he said firmly.

"That does not sound like Ralof at all." Lydia turned around and folded her hands primly across her middle. "So, who's expecting, and has she told Ralof? Chances are, if he knew, he'd already be on his way to Riften with her."

"He spent a long weekend with two of my Girls a couple of months back, and they've been moping about ever since," he told her, frowning.

"I don't think kidnapping would be necessary. I think if he knew, he'd be asking you to take him to them, or bring them here."

"That's the impression I got, too," he confirmed. "Kidnapping him is just because it's funny."

"Y'know, he looked really down last time I saw him in the Sleeping Giant Inn. I have a feeling your kidnapping idea is going to make three happy people."

Rommy stopped, looking thoughtful. Telki hadn't  _thu'um_ ed yet; Erandur must be taking his time, or they'd decided to talk first. Plenty of time for a side trip. "Care to come with me? Lucia, Haffod, and Alesan are certainly old enough to watch the littles for a few hours if I ward the property."

"Kidding? You'd have to tie me up in the wardrobe to keep me home." Lydia grabbed her cloak, the nights still tended to get cold around the lake.

Rommy offered his arm, waited until she took it, then butterflied to the next town, setting them down in sight, but not where anyone happened to be looking. The trip was a bit more jarring than usual, the butterflies taking on many hues and forms. "Alright, you go in, and don't warn him; I have some dramatics to set up."

"Oh, this is going to be something else, that's for sure." Lydia shook her head, and went into the warmth and noise of the inn with perfect aplomb.

Her quick eyes scanned the scene. There was Ralof, mulling over his thoughts and mead while watching the fire pit. Orgnar was wiping down his counter. Faendal and Camilla were cozied up with each other at the far bench, while Sven did his best to ignore them and angrily tuned his lute. Just like a dozen other nights, now that she thought about it.

"Ralof, what has you so deep in thought?" She took the seat next to him, giving him a concerned look.

A sad chuckle shook his shoulders. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Well, no, perhaps you would." Ralof eyed Lydia speculatively, but looked around at all the possible eavesdroppers. "I'll say only that I found myself in an impossible place, in an impossible situation, and damned if I don't want to go back."

Lydia leaned back. Well, well, seemed the kidnap victim would be more than willing, without the prodding of a baby on the way. She itched to tell him, but didn't want to spoil Rommy's fun. Ralof's fugue could use the kick in the pants. "You really want to go back?"

"Better than moping every night into a mug of mead." Ralof eyed her, "What's brought you into town tonight? You're usually tucked up with the kids and Erandur by now."

The door burst inward, but rather than an irate Rommy, two seeming elves ran in, glanced around, then brightened when their eyes lighted on him. " _RALOF!"_  they cried in unison, running over to squeeze him tightly between them. They were followed by an irritated Rommy, pouting a bit because they'd ruined his fun.

Expression much like a stunned ox's, the Nord somehow managed to shake himself out of his surprise. Of course, it might have been the pair of daedra covering his face with kisses and holding themselves as close to him as physically possible while still dressed. "Girls? Is it really you? How? I thought I'd not see you again," Ralof wrapped a meaty arm around each and squeezed, burying his face between their hair. "I've missed you both."

"We missed you too," the Saint, Mehris, said, settling herself in his lap.

"It's been dreadfully lonely without your cute, red face," Valori added, holding his head between her breasts. They vibrated with his laugh.

"Also, we get along now," Mehris said.

"You brought us together," Valori told him, kissing the top of his head.

"And then we decided to stay together," the Saint said, finishing with Valori, "and raise the babies!"

Ralof's face came up, eyes wide and mouth hanging. Mehris giggled and kissed his cheek, shutting his mouth for him with a click of teeth. He glanced at Lydia to confirm he'd heard what he'd thought he heard. "B-babies? We're having...?" His brows drew down, giving them both stern looks. "I hope you made room for me in these plans?"

"We weren't sure you'd want to stay with us," Valori admitted with a little pout, "being all sane and all."

"But then Lord Rommy told us that you'd been as dreadfully sad as we've been," Mehris squealed, giving him a hug, delighted with his gloom.

"And since the children are half human," Valori said, "we thought it might be better if we stayed here with you."

"At least until we're sure they won't have two heads or Reymi turn them into flesh golems or something."

"Or the Duke kidnap them to try to talk to his Mother."

"Or the Duchess try to eat them."

"No, I don't think that'd be a very good place to raise them." Ralof's head fairly whirled with the frightening possibilities they laid out, though he wondered how talking to someone's mother could be all that bad, but it  _was_ an Oblivion realm, what did he know? "Looks like I'll finally be building that house Gerdur's been after me to finish." He'd put it off since he spent most of his time in Windhelm, but it seemed time was of the essence.

The women exchanged looks, then stared at him, "Who's Gerdur?" they demanded.

"My sister, you'll get to meet my family if you stay." Ralof glanced over to Lydia, where she sat with eyes gleaming and mouth suspiciously hidden safely behind two tightly clamped hands. She'd not known they were  _both_ pregnant! "You knew about this, didn't you? Mehris, Valori, meet the Lady Lydia, one of the Dragonborn's housecarls and spouse. Lady Lydia, may I present Mehris and Valori, my troth-plighted." Both daedra squealed, squeezing him again. Rommy was still pouting that he didn't get to play angry father.

"Very nice to make your acquaintances, and yes, I might have had an inkling. We'll just say you owe me, else you might have had to face an angry father figure to these two." The wide eyed gulp that caused was well worth it.

"You do have my thanks, and yes, I most definitely owe you one."

"Can I at least watch you tell your sister?" Rommy groused, plopping down next to them with a mead already in hand. "I was really looking forward to watching  _someone_  squirm."

Ralof groaned, and leaned his head back, eyes closed and pain squeezing his features tight. "Aye, I suppose I could at that. Though facing her down may be enough to make me one of yours."

"Oh, you'll be one of mine eventually, anyway," Rommy assured him, eyes bright.

Ralof looked at Romulus, searching his face for meaning. "Please tell me you mean the general madness that accompanies fatherhood?"

Smiling wickedly, Rommy looked up, "Come on, Girls, let's get your betrothed to the mill!"

Giggling, the Saint and Seducer hopped up and, each grabbing one arm, pulled Ralof to his feet. "Introduce us to your family!" Mehris cried.

"And let us play with the big saw!" Valori begged.

"Eh, since Hod's accident, Gerdur's been stopping early enough to get home to check on him. They should be at the house now, which is why I'm here instead of the mill."

"Ooh! Is the house big enough for us?" Valori asked, wrapping her arms around his. They'd taken the time to change into what they wore in the Barracks, which was easier on a growing belly than armor, but still left much less to the imagination than anyone in Riverwood was probably used to. Her long, dusky legs were perfectly visible and curiously impervious to the cold. Rommy was ready to fall down laughing at people's incredulous, scandalized reactions to the scene. Riverwood was going to be talking about this for years.

"No, it isn't, which is why Gerdur is going to take the opportunity to 'I told you so' at me, if not beat me about the head and shoulders for not having it done already, with two expecting wives."

"You could always stay with us tonight," Mehris smiled winsomely at him, fluttering her golden brown lashes.

"If all else fails, I'll rent Orgnar's big room," Ralof promised, drinking in Mehris' face with a smile. "I seem to recall 'with you' included a barracks full, did it not?"

"I think I'd put you in the Palace if you decided to go that rout," Rommy said, eying them. "Last thing I need is more of them out for maternity leave." Ralof's eyes widened, and his brows disappeared in his hairline while that sunk in. Thankfully, the wattle fence around Gerdur's house came into view to give him something else to think about.

"Here we are. Gerdur's already fit to be tied over Hod's mishap with the slaughterfish. Fell in the river chasing a loose log, damn fool. He's lucky a slaughterfish bite was all he got, and not crushed ribs from the log falling on him." Ralof realized he was babbling, but really, after dropping a bomb like that, what did anyone expect?

Watching impatiently as the man stared at his door, pregnant daedra on either arm, Rommy finally lost patience and went up and knocked. Mehris took this as the perfect opportunity to reacquaint Ralof's cheek with her lips. Valori got jealous and claimed his other cheek.

Much grumbling could be heard through the door before a very broad, very strong, and very annoyed blonde Nord woman answered the door. Her glance took in Rommy, her brother, and the two 'elves' clinging to him in one go. "Oh gods, what's he done now?"

"Well, I didn't have to hold a sword to him for the wedding, so nothing too bad?" Rommy shrugged.

Gerdur looked rather like he'd snuck up behind her and whacked her with a board. "He's what? Ralof! I told you ! I told you this summer and last! Where are you going to keep your wives now? The house barely holds us and you as it is!"

Mehris grinned, showing off all her golden teeth, "Oh, he can stay with us!"

"We need room for the babies," Valori said, rubbing a hand over her barely swelling stomach.

Gerdur closed her eyes and counted to ten; Ralof would end up with a pair of women with no more sense than him. She opened them to consider Romulus with a porcelain serene expression. "What, exactly, did you need here with me tonight, Romulus? I have my hands full with Hod's recovery. Can't they stay with you until my darling baby brother gets his house finished?" Her teeth actually ground together at 'darling baby brother.'

"Those two?" he pointed at the daedra currently getting slightly wandering hands, "I'm responsible for them. So, since I have no idea what Skyrim's marriage traditions are, besides 'put on necklace and see what happens,' I thought I might offer their dowry."

Gerdur actually stumbled against the door. "What?"

"Dowry. You know, Imperial and Breton custom of girl's family to give boy's family a gift like they're bribing them to get rid of them or something. In this case, I thought maybe I'd see what I can do for your husband. I am a mage, after all."

Gerdur lifted a shaky hand to her mouth. "By the gods, thank you, Romulus. I never, thank you."

"Pack your stuff while I'm at it, Ralof," Rommy suggested as Gerdur let him into the house.

"Romulus! You old dog! What brings you by this evening?" Hod's bluff voice called from his sickbed, and ended with a wracking cough.

"I'm kidnapping your brother-in-law for a swordpoint wedding," Rommy said cheerfully, walking over to the bed and casting Cure Disease before working on the man's foot. "Was this a slaughterfish or a shark?"

"Felt like a damned dragon." Hod breathed much easier, after the laughing fit. "Tell me about this swordpoint wedding. I always knew Ralof's pretty face was going to land him in trouble of the father-in-law kind."

Valori thought this a great time to introduce herself and plopped down on one side of the bed, "Hello mortal!"

Mehris stood behind her with a hand on her hip, "Valori, don't, he's ailing!"

"But he's getting better!" the Seducer said, "And he uses the big, fun-looking saw!"

Hod's eyes went from one ot the other. "Ralof's gone and gotten himself in deep trouble, hasn't he?" He wasn't sure if this was the funny sort of trouble, or if he should be praying to Shor for him.

"We're pregnant!" they chorused cheerfully.

"We haven't told Telki yet," Rommy said, eyes laughing even as he remained outwardly calm. This was highly entertaining. Almost as good as turning Ulfric to cheese.

"You're a good mage, right?" Hod struggled upright in his bed, it was the first time in days he felt able enough. His head only swam a little. "I want an image of her face when you do!"

"One polaroid coming up!" he paused and looked at the Girls, "Now where did  _that_ one come from?" They both shrugged. Finishing Hod's foot, he turned to see an absurdly happy Ralof holding a bag of all his stuff. "Ready? Good, because we have to walk back."

"Why?" the Girls whined in unison.

"Because I am not deconstructing anyone while pregnant!" he gave them as stern a gaze as he was capable.

Mehris shrugged. "We can cuddle Ralof as we walk," she pointed out.

"Em, Rommy? Erandur sometimes comes down to drink at the Sleeping Dragon. He said you could turn people into dragons?" Ralof was rubbing the back of his neck, face red as a tomato. "If you can do that, I could transport my wives."

Valori turned to smile smugly at Mehris. "We're his wives," she said.

"I know!" Mehris squealed. Rommy was never more happy that he'd dissolved the old Aureal/Mazken rivalries, mostly because the bickering had given him a headache, and he'd had enough to deal with, having suddenly found himself immortal and in charge of a Daedric Realm filled with…well, the mad.

"How drunk was he when he said this?" Rommy asked. Just because Ralof had fallen down a rabbit hole into the Isles and discovered who he was didn't mean he wanted all of Riverwood to know.

"Drunk enough I had to haul him back to the Lakehouse," Ralof admitted.

"Walking," Rommy said firmly, standing. He was fighting down the warning pressure in his mind nearly constantly now; changing Ralof into anything was highly inadvisable. Besides, the Girls were looking forward to the cuddle.

 


	13. Who Ever Loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is in the air, so's madness.
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The house was very quiet within the muffle enchants on the bedroom. Light had long since left the windows, but the fire rune on the wall above them kept them comfortably warm, as well as the shared warmth of their bodies.

"Mmmm, missed you." Telki snuggled into Erandur's side, sighing contentedly. "So, think you can stand 'Ice cube Central' if it means we're all together?"

"Hm, possibly. Depends on how stingy Sam is with Mercutio's time." Erandur tucked one arm behind his head, while the other hand gently traced over Telki's ear. She relaxed into him, as always. Erandur had known her the longest, been married to her the longest, of all her husbands. He had a way of calming her heart that no one else could manage. His dry wit and quiet love never failed to ground her, bringing her back to hearth and home no matter where the world and her destiny took her.

Telki snorted, smiling against him, "Sam sharing won't be an issue. The problem there would be getting him to refrain from sharing too much."

Erandur winced, but chuckled. "I suspect you're right." Further conversation was halted by the unmistakable rumble of an empty tummy. Erandur regarded her with fond exasperation. "Did you forget to eat again?"

"No! I ate! Promise!" It was no use. He was prodding her out of the warm bed and into clothes, just to go downstairs to snack. Telki grumbled the whole way.

Seated at the table, eating, Erandur nudged her shoulder. "Wasn't there something else on your mind?"

Telki nearly spewed her cider. "Yeeeah. I'm worried."

"About?"

"So, you know Talon is over the moon for Fey, right?"

He nodded with a little sigh, tracing the rim of his mug, "So you noticed."

"Yeah, looks like Nala's over the moon for him."

"Oh dear."

"Yeah. Nala's not had a lot of practice in the successful relationship department, and Talon's well, Talon. I'm worried for the both of them."

"Don't know which one of them to get indignant for, eh?" Erandur sat back, and considered the situation. He sighed. "Honestly? Just be a considerate and listening sister for Nala, and a good friend for Talon. Don't go looking to dispense your wisdom, or try to warn them off. That would guarantee their resentment, either because of the 'might have beens,' or you made the relationship sour, or you doubted their relationship. If it fails, you help them pick up and carry on." Erandur looked at her mopey expression and felt compelled to add. "There's also the possibility they are exactly what each other needs, and they'll need your support and confidence to help it work."

Telki looked up at him with big eyes. "You really think it might?"

"If there is one thing I know Mara loves more than anything else, it's a challenging happily ever after," he reminded her, smile slightly self-deprecating. Anyone less stubborn than Telki and he'd probably still be freezing in the Tower of the Dawn.

"Erandur!" Rommy yelled, running in and pointing a wiggling swordfish at the startled Dunmer, "I'm holding a sword to someone so it still counts!" His hair was mostly white and it was clear he was in high good humor. And madness. Lots of madness leaking out of him. Little whirlwinds actually formed momentarily around him until he settled.

"Romulus Amulius! What the good gravy is going on!" Telki popped up from where she'd been sitting, shock making her eyes wide and tail stiff.

He lowered the fish, which complained bitterly at him, "Swordpoint wedding! I didn't get to threaten the groom, so I figured Erandur wouldn't mind if he got a little classic Shivering Isles swordplay."

"That elf couldn't hurl a good insult if his life depended on it!" the fish declared scornfully. "Bring it on, you dour-faced ash pile!"

"You wouldn't know a good insult if it swallowed you whole, you scaleless blunt-faced trout. The sardines I had for lunch did better." Erandur hadn't let his time in the Isles go to waste, either.

The landed fish gaped like a landed fish. "Say that to my face you—"

"That's good," Rommy said cheerfully, fish vanishing. "Swordpoint part of wedding appeased."

Telki was pinching the bridge of her nose. "Rommy, Love, who's getting married? And why?"

"Oh, that would be Mehris and Valori," he said, grinning at her as his hair gradually darkened. "And Ralof, of course."

"And all parties gave willing verbal assent?" Erandur thought that might need clarification before any proceedings.

"Unfortunately, I didn't have to threaten anyone," Rommy sighed.

"Chief Madman Swaddler!" Mehris ran in, nearly bouncing. "Your house is so nice!"

"Thank you, Mehris, I hear you're getting married?" Telki gave her a hug. "And Valori?" Telki beckoned with the other arm. She'd learned that lesson real quick.

Valori was there like she'd been summoned. The Chief Madman Swaddler was infamous for her hugs. "We're pregnant!" she announced.

"I wanted to tell her!"

"I thought you would join me," the Seducer shrugged, reaching over and giving the Saint a heated kiss right over Telki's head, without releasing her. Rommy made a mental note to give yet another assembly on consent and personal space.

"Well, two out of three give exuberant consent. Ralof? Where are you, shug? And going to be a father! Holy hep cats," Telki's brow furrowed. "Rommy, I thought you said Ralof was involved? Where is he?"

"Rommy forgot to shrink his clothing after he made him giant to get us here, so he is very embarrassed and was hoping he'd go fix that before anyone came looking for him," Valori said, shrugging a little as if she didn't know what the big deal was.

"Whoops," Rommy said, heading back outside.

"So, pregnant, the both of you. I thought that hardly to never happened?" Telki looked from one to the other, guiding them to sit down at the table with her and Erandur.

"Mortals getting daedra pregnant is rare," Mehris explained, stealing a roll. "It's normally the other way around."

"It happens, though, when there's a lot of magic and affection, or, well, affection that becomes magic," Valori picked up the thread.

"And what Ralof does in the bedroom is definitely magic," Mehris sighed happily.

"And he's so cute and affectionate!" Valori gushed. "Not like Dremora men."

"No," Mehris scowled, "Definitely not like Dremora men."

Telki looked at Erandur, who shrugged. "Well, at least Mercutio can't get pregnant."

Rommy coaxed Ralof in the house, the latter looking at him suspiciously the entire time. Rommy's eyes were still bright with mirth. "So," he said, glancing back at them, "are we spending the night here or do you all want to pack while I go make portals?"

Ralof looked from Mehris and Valori to Telki, as if he didn't know what to answer. "I can pay for a room at the inn; I can provide for my wives."

"Those are my subjects and that makes you an honorary subject," Rommy said gleefully, rubbing his hands. "I'm going to go make cake." He had, apparently, taken about four seconds to forget about the portal again.

Ralof folded his arms in front of him. "Romulus, do you house all your subjects? I am one of the High King's men, I can take care of my wives. I do not want you thinking we'd need charity."

Telki rolled her eyes at the prickly Nord pride. "Pffft, who said anything about charity? It's like, once in forever the Seducers and Saints get hitched, and all three of you are my friends. I  _want_  to host the wedding party and night, because I'm happy for you and I want to celebrate with you…well, not the wedding night bit, of course, because, just no."

"And yes, I do house all my subjects," Rommy said with his own pride prickled. Or perhaps pickled. He'd have to check. "What do you think the Shivering Isles are?"

"Romulus, my darling love, they don't all live in the Palace, do they? Let the man have a little bit of pride, sheesh." Telki bumped into Romulus, and hugged him close.

"Um, Telki," Rommy said quietly, looking down at her quizzically, "the Isles are an extension of me. I actually do house them all." He tapped his head.

Telki huffed. "Which is it, do they have a mind of their own, or are they you? The answer seems to change at times."

He paused, thinking about the many ways to answer that, all of them valid, and finally ended up shrugging ruefully. "They are me, but they're not me? But they're still me?" Honestly, she'd experienced this for herself, he'd think it'd be easier for her to understand. "It's…not exactly symbiotic, but they're not complete without me—or a Sheogorath, anyway—and I'm not complete without them. We affect and share from each other to the point that in some sense, there is no difference." He thought about it another moment. "I don't think 'sense' really works in this context."

Telki snickered against his side. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Still, he's a man and he's a Nord. For pity's sakes, you yourself were just getting huffy over the idea of someone thinking you didn't take care of your own, right? So, we're hosting wedding and party, and go from there. 'Kay? Kay."

"Well, I suppose I should let them decide then," he said, holding her close and rubbing their noses together. "Ralof: Are we hosting a wedding or an engagement party?"

Ralof looked down at both of his betrotheds, and then turned a solemn gaze on Erandur. "If they are ready, I would be beholden to you if you'd do us the honor of performing our wedding ceremony."

Erandur regarded one of the few Nords he happily called friend with a warm smile. "It would be one of my greatest pleasures to do this for you, Ralof."

Valori clapped her hands eagerly while Mehris eeled out of Ralof's grasp to prance over to Romulus and Telki, "Are you going to give us away, Lord Sheogorath?"

"I'm letting him borrow you for his mortal existence," Rommy said with mock-huffines, deliberately putting on his more "Sheo" coloring.

Telki giggled against his arm. "Your Sheo's showing again, Love. Are you going to walk them down the aisle as yourself, or Yourself?" She reached on tiptoe to run her hands through the silky strands, softly scratching his scalp as she went.

He glanced at Mehris, who smiled, reaching up to tap his nose. "If it's all the same to you, we'd like Rommy."

Surprise flickered across his face, then he smiled bashfully. "Alright," he said, letting go of Telki and clearing his throat. "Should I bring back the swordfish?"

"No," Valori said, "It may be traditional, but they never shut up."

"Dresses! Oh my goodness, I have just the things, if Rom's willing to do a little alteration for me?"

"Why do I have to do everything?" he asked, "Oh, wait, because it's convenient."

"Because you're awesome, and you like spoiling me, what else?" Telki bumped him playfully as she traipsed off back to their room, happily humming as she pulled out first the gorgeous golden dress, and then the pearly dream dress. Saymad had bought a trunk, unopened, and sold it to Telki in the same condition. These two were what she found inside.

"Am I supposed to see these to alter these, or is that bad luck?" Rommy asked, standing in the doorway with his hand over his eyes. "Felicia didn't wear a dress, and that is literally the only wedding I ever paid attention to."

"Well, in some cultures, it's bad luck for the groom to see the dress before the wedding. In others, it doesn't matter. In none of them do I know of it being bad luck for the father figure to see them. Look. Aren't they gorgeous?"

Opening his eyes, he smiled, "It's like serendipity," he agreed. "Or Jyggalag, but that would be weird."

"What do you think? The gold on Valori, and the pearly dress on Mehris?" Telki held up one and then the other for Rom's approval.

"I may have told them to knock it off when it comes to the Aureal/Mazken rivalry, but I still think it's a bit much to ask a Seducer to wear gold."

"Ah, you'll have to tell me about that sometime." Telki sighed, "The gold dress won't be too much on Mehris?"

"She's a Golden Saint; she'll probably end up looking like a Statue of Dibella," he pointed out.

Telki tilted her head in confusion. "She'll look naked?"

"A clothed Statue of Dibella," he amended.

Telki shook her head, laughing. "Now wouldn't that make Sam cry? Okay, what do we need to do now for you to make the magic happen? Bippity Boppity Boo?"

Rommy looked simultaneously so proud of her and like he was about to cry, "You're using the crazy references with no discernable origins."

"I did? Hmm. Holdover from my stint on the throne, or just being around you?"

"No idea," he confessed, pulling her to him so that he could gaze into her eyes and rub his hands down the backs of her arms. His eyes were very bright gold.

"Honey, are you okay?" Telki stroked his jaw, having transferred both dresses to the same arm so she could.

He closed his eyes and shook his head a little, stepping back. Chaos magic was leaking out of him again, he realized, enough to actually affect those around him. "I…" he glanced at the dresses and waved his hand briefly. "That's done. I need some help staying on task, I think," he said, shaking his head again. A creeping vine grew out his ear and put out flowers. He knocked it away irritably.

Telki wrapped both arms around him, and rocked him side to side. "Talk to me, Love."

"I'm finding it a bit hard to think," he confessed. "When I make the portal, I'm going to need to spend a few days in the Isles. When…when all this started I bottled my curse in, to keep me from making things worse. Now, it's getting too difficult to stamp down; I need to let some of it out."

"Okay, will I be able to visit you, or do you need Telki-free time to get your Sheo done?"

"I'll come back when I can," he sighed regretfully, pressing a light kiss on her forehead. "In the meantime, we have a wedding to finish."

"That we do. Go be father of the brides, and I'll play the happily tearful madame swaddler momma." Telki looped her arm with Rom's and walked back with him to the main room. Both Girls squealed when they saw them and ran right past them into the room, exclaiming over the dresses.

Rommy chuckled, "Maybe you should go help them?" he asked, planning to go right down and make a cake before his Sheo side decided it should be made out of mud, or crabs, or mudcrabs.

It was a beautiful ceremony, interrupted halfway through by the children, who no one had thought to tell what was going on. Telki and Lydia had quickly chivied them back into order on the table benches. Erandur had taken their vows while the Girls practically bounced, Ralof looked like he was trying not to burst with emotion, and Rommy broke down crying while Sofie worriedly patted his face with a handkerchief, wondering why his tears were all purple.

They all happily sat and shared the cake while Rommy went off and made the portal, carrying the wardrobe into the middle of the room like it was nothing. The children all packed a few days' worth of clothing with the help of everyone not newlywed or making a portal to another dimension, and by evening, all was ready.

"This is going to have to come out of that hidden back room of yours for now," Rommy said, hand on the latch to the wardrobe. His hair was white, his eyes glowing golden, and his features had shifted subtly. "I'll make this two-way when I get back," he said, pulling open the door and sighing when he was met with half a dozen fur coats. "Why does that always happen?"

"Well, it's not like they won't get used in Windhelm," Telki commented, passing them out.

"Very true," he said, stepping aside and ushering them through, newlyweds and all. "Quickly, quickly, please."

"Step lively, or you'll be left here to mind the livestock all your lonesome." That got the kids moving, as Telki knew it would.

Rommy waited until they were all through, standing in a small room in the Palace at New Sheoth, then waved a hand at the blank wall on the other side, forming another door. Valori took one look at him and opened it herself, dragging Ralof through. The kids funneled through quickly after. He squeezed Telki's hand for a moment, holding her back as they all exclaimed about the cold and finding themselves in Windhelm. "Telki, can you take Murril with you? Just for a bit?"

"Sure, Love. Are you going to be alright? You tend to get hinky about your Sheo-ness, and I keep thinking you're gonna forget to come back to me. Sheo-y or not, I want you with me."

Holding her close a moment, he sighed. "I'm going to forget myself for a bit. I can't help it. I don't want to scare you, or hurt you." Tipping her face up, he gave her a soft kiss, "I've been overdue to be just Sheo: I haven't just let the madness run more than a day or two since I met you again at Dawnstar. But I need to be the Sheogorath you met in the Blue Palace for a while."

Telki snuggled into him. "Well, just for the record, He didn't worry me, either. I rather got along with the rascal, in case you forgot." Telki looked up at him with a narrowed, thinking gaze. "Would more frequent, shorter, Sheo breaks help?"

"Probably. Only problem is, sometimes he doesn't want to go back down," he said worriedly. Cupping her face in both hands, he kissed her deeply, a little desperately, and didn't stop until they both needed to come up for air. "Give me five days, can you do that? Five days before you come looking?"

"Yes. Five days, I can do that." Telki worried her lip for a bit, thinking. "You know you can't protect me from that side of yourself forever. You're going to have to trust me with that version of you, too, at some point. You'll worry yourself crazy if you don't."

He thought a moment. "Someday," he agreed reluctantly. "When you're able to completely defend yourself from me."

Telki puzzled that one out. "Yeah, that. You have a plan? Or are we going to trust my Divine intervention thingy that has worked so far?"

"I was going to give you a few more decades of experience and probably borrow Scourge," he said, then winced, hand coming up to rub his temple.

"Yeah, no, that won't work. You'd drive either me or you to drinking, and then how would we live with Sam?" Telki shook her head. "Anyways, you need to go have your Sheogorath time, and come home when you can. Okay?"

He nodded, kissing her once more before spinning her around. "Bye, Telki," he said, pushing her through the door so she ended up on the floor of her Windhelm house with a very confused, somewhat frightened Murril in her lap, clutching her dulcimer and looking around wildly.

"It's okay, Murril. Rommy had to have some Sheogorath wild time, and he wanted you safely with me while he got it out of his system. Think you can stay with me a few days here? Talon, Pearl, and Orien are here, too." Telki hugged her close, and smoothed her hair down comfortingly.

Pale green eyes darkened with heartbreak as she looked up into Telki's face, then reached out and rapped her knuckles on the wardrobe behind them.

"Sweetie, you know I want to go back and hug him tight just as much as you do, but he asked for this time without us, because if he did do something to us, it would just about kill him. Please stay with me? I promise you, I'll take you back first chance we get." Telling Murril "no" hurt, especially since she was pretty much having to tell herself as much as Murril. There was a very large proponent in the back of her mind telling her to hang sense, go hug him.

Really, the only thing stopping her was how very much it would hurt Rommy if she were wrong. She hated that, because it felt like doubting Rommy.

"Woooah, Momma Telki, did we really just hop through Oblivion to get to Windhelm? Hey! Can we go see King Ulfric?" Blaise was bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking around the Windhelm house. Heat enchants, she forgot about the heat enchants. Runa may well be the only one that didn't need one. It was going to be a long night at the forge and enchant table.

Mehris was snuggling into Ralof, looking around. "There's a king?"

"His king," Valori reminded her, "The one we think he secretly wants to cuddle a lot?"

"Oh, that one!" Mehris replied brightly.

Telki and Ralof shared a puzzled look. Of course, if Ralof said anything, they'd just take it as proof. That left Telki. "Um, Girls? Why do you think Ralof wants to…snuggle Ulfric?"

"He talks about him a lot," Mehris shrugged, reaching around to "hug" Ralof's bottom with her hand.

"In such glowing terms," Valori put in.

"We just assumed he admired him," Mehris glanced at Ralof. "And when we admired Ralof, we wanted to cuddle him."

"And tie him up," Valori reminded her. "And—" she stopped looking down at all the children. "Have lots of fun."

"Oh, you two, honestly. But you're right, it's gotten late, and it's definitely some kids' bedtime." Telki looked at her brood, who were all now in various stages of whining, depending on age. "Nope, y'all've not been here since I had this place expanded. If you guys help me make the beds, and go to bed without complaining, we'll see about getting an afternoon with Ulfric, and maybe a picnic with Tyr's mammoths, too. Deal?"

"We'll help!" the two new Mrs. Ralofs chorused.

"Sounds like a plan. Okay, everyone, bedroom wing is this way. Hup hup hup!" Telki led a veritable procession to the bedroom wing, and even with all the help, it was a solid hour before she had everyone settled to her satisfaction.

"Are we staying here?" Valori asked Ralof quietly.

"I don't want to wake the kids," Mehris did not seem as worried as her tone implied as she nibbled on Ralof's ear.

"Muffle runes are your best friend." Telki studied the room, mapped out where she'd need it, and planted one under the bed, and another on the door. That should cover whatever hijinks they got up to. She was glad they were an end room, and therefore didn't share any walls with the kids rooms.

Mrs. Ralofs squealed, launching themselves to sandwich Telki between them. "You're the best Queen ever!" Mehris said, holding her tight.

"Chief Madman Swaddler," Valori reminded her, kissing Telki's head, then Mehris.

"Eh, that's a mouthful. Queen's easier, I guess." She even managed to say it without shuddering. Telki was proud of herself. "But if you just like Chief Madman Swaddler, that's okay, too."

"Thank you for the dresses," Mehris said, cuddling Telki. "And the wedding."

"And the honeymoon, which she specifically said she didn't want to be included in," Valori said, snickering.

"Alright now, I thought it was our wedding night, not Telki's. My arms are feeling very empty and lonely right now." Ralof's lips were twitching. Telki looked both uncomfortable, but determined not to ruin the Girls' good mood, which had left her in quite the bind.

"Goodnight, Queen!" they cried, racing back to their husband's loving arms. "What do you want to do first, Ralof?" Valori asked.

"I brought feathers!" Mehris announced.

Telki quickly shut the door. She did not need to know anything more, ever. Besides, she needed time to make some charms for the kids. Calder kept Hjerim nice and toasty, but the rest of the city sincerely felt like it was made out of ice. That meant heat enchants. Perhaps she could simply enchant some medallions, and have them on slip cords the kids could either wear as a necklace or bracelet. She got to work. It was going to be a long night, and she still had to let the rest of them know she was here.

Telki stood up straight. There was a way. "Where, oh where, oh where's my Sammy? Where, oh where can he be?"

There was a very long pause, then a very pouty seven foot Sanguine wearing nothing but a blanket tucked around his waist appeared in the middle of the room. "You have— _hic!_ —horrible timing, but Merc says I have to see what you need."

"Look around Sam. Where are we?" Telki gave him a hug, mindful to keep that blanket in place, and then did a doubletake. "Wait, you and Merc? You did?  _Squee!"_  Telki took both his hands and did a little circling jig right there with him.

Sam chuckled as his boyfriend's wife danced him around the room for sleeping with him. His life had gotten so fun lately, in some ways anyway. "Still welcome to join, Telki," he reminded her. The blanket had similar ideas, but nudity had never bothered the Daedra of Debauchery, and she was the one that insisted on hopping about.

"While I can appreciate that." Telki had to stop and shake her head. "Yeah, really appreciate that." Telki handed him back his blanket. "I don't care to think how that would affect Rommy."

"Eh, true," he said, tucking the blanket back in place. "So, what do you— _hic!—_ need, and can it wait until I've completely worn out Muffin?"

"Ulfric needs to know I've moved my whole herd to Windhelm, so does Tyr's family and the rest of my husbands. Yes, you can wait to tell them at breakfast. There's a good chance I'll be sleeping through it, since I'm making all the munchkins heat enchants for staying here in the city. Francois' last pneumonia bout does not bear repeating."

Sanguine frowned. "Cute little Franky?" Something about Franky had always gotten to him. Perhaps it was how hyper he got when he overindulged in sugar.

"Awww Sam, careful, or I might think you're more cut out for family life than you've let on. Yeah, the little blonde sprout. The one that likes your painted face."

"Kids are cute, they're just not as interesting as adults," he shrugged, then brightened with a gleeful look on his face. "I can go tell Gideon that you're back. He's still with Shell. I think I'll go…pop in and let them know before I head back to Muffin. That way everyone knows you're back."

"Sam, honey, you don't need the kind of holes Shell would put in you if you interrupted her fun times. Sober Mead might not be able to fix you. Besides, how does telling Gideon now inform Tyr or Ulfric? Just tell everyone at the breakfast table and watch their faces. Especially when Ulfric hears I've brought the whole brood. Ask him about Blaise, Alesan, and the war room."

"Yeah," Sam shifted uncomfortably, "And last time I popped into— _hic!_ —Ulfric's room he was awake and nearly got me with a sword, and when I interrupted Tyr and Fey…" he shuddered. For a mortal, Fey was surprisingly frightening, and Shouts hurt no matter who you were. "I cannot  _wait_ until Blossom and Orien are— _hic!_ —older."

"I can imagine." Telki was puttering around her enchanting table, getting her gems and medallions ready, and happened to look over at her alchemy station. "Sam, can you fast forward the fermenting process? Like, age alcohol with your daedric awesomeness?"

He blinked, looking interested, "Yeah. What do you need— _hic!_ —done, and then I really— _hic!_ —wanna go back to Muffin. He was making such cute noises."

"It's for you, of course, but sap needs to age to really taste right." Telki leaned over and handed him a very familiar jug. "From the only known Hist in Skyrim. I think research said five years was about perfect."

Telki found herself being hugged by the wrong half-naked Prince, "You're my— _hic!—_ favorite sister."

"Love you too, Sam, though not quite like you'd druther, I'm sure. Now, go make Muffin squeak again. He really likes it when you kiss the back of his neck."

"Favorite. Sister," he reiterated, vanishing. Telki shook her head at his antics, and set about making her babies heat enchants for tomorrow. Erandur came and collected her sometime before dawn, seven glowing medallions left sitting on her station.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Meals were only served in the Great Hall at mealtimes. For people who missed those mealtimes and wanted more than the portable fare left out for changing guards—for instance, a pair of infatuated couples who kept each other up all night—food could be found in the kitchen. Shell batted her eyes at the cook until he made some bacon for Gideon, then watched him inhale it indulgently.

Gideon hummed in contentment, and pulled Shell close for a snuggle while he ate. "It's the strangest thing. I don't feel right eating now, unless I'm holding someone, how could that possibly have happened?" He teased into her hair, just behind the sensitive ear.

"No idea," she lied, sucking jazbay juice off her fingers. She was more of a light eater, and had just grabbed some berries, bread, and something the Nords called "yogurt" that she'd really come to enjoy.

"I wonder if Sam is going to remember Mercutio needs to eat." Gideon's brows pulled down slightly. "I haven't seen them yet today."

"We've not seen much of anyone yet today," she reminded him dryly.

He turned a sun bright grin on her. "True, that. I wonder how that happened?"

Bringing just a small jolt of sparks to her fingers, she ran them lightly down his thigh, "You sleep too much."

"Sleeping?" Gideon raised both eyebrows in challenge. "I think my honor may have just been insulted." He settled her back against him, where he could lowly rumble into her delicate ear and pull her back against something that definitely wasn't sleeping. "I wonder what I must needs do to regain it."

"Does that 'Lord Gideon' thing extend to being able to order everyone out of the kitchens?" she asked breathlessly, turning her head to kiss along his jawline.

"Considering I just saw the cook leave with his face as red as the apples there? Possibly." Breakfast was momentarily forgotten as their lips met.

"Gideon." There was a deep voice behind them, Gideon finally came up for air in time to see Ulfric wearing his most patient of faces. "I never thought I would have to worry about you scarring my kitchen staff for life. Could I impose upon you to take that back to your room?"

Shell pouted, "Unnncle…" she whined. Well, if he was going to insist the twins call him that, she wasn't going to let the opportunity go to waste.

"There is cheese there on the sideboard. I hear it goes well with wine." Ulfric chuckled at her. Shell stuck her tongue out at him, then grinned.

"Honestly, I expected to find Sam in here up to mischief. Instead, 'tis my paladin and his fiancee," Ulfric tisked at them both. "I had to give him a pay raise after the floating kitchen supplies. I don't know if the coffers will withstand another raise."

"I could give him a raise," purred a familiar voice from behind Ulfric.

Ulfric covered his face in his hand, laughing because it was too early to cry. "Speak of the Daedra. How are you this morning, Sam?"

"Oh, very— _hic!—_ well. Telki gave me new— _hic!—_ mead last night." He draped his arm over the jarl's shoulder. He'd just come down to grab some muffins for Muffin, who was still sacked out on the bed, looking very disheveled and altogether too adorable for words. Sam had needed to cover him with a sheet to avoid waking him up the fun way. Mortals needed to eat.

"Telki! You saw Telki last night?" Gideon turned around, arms still cradling Shell close, to take part in the now interesting conversation. "Wait, she told me the new mead needed aging still. She gave it to you early?"

"I can— _hic!—_ age things," he said. "And she's here! In the— _hic!—_ city. They were all worried about the— _hic!—_ assassins, so they brought all the babies— _hic! Hic!_."

 _"All_  of them?" Shell asked, eyes wide, starting to panic just a bit. Gideon had assured her that the children were mostly kept at different houses and she could meet them all a bit at a time. And now they were apparently all in the city, with absolutely no warning.

"Need a drink— _hic!_ —Shell?" Sam asked, giving her a hooded-eyed look. He'd been enjoying the show before Ulfric interrupted.

Just maybe, but it was early. Seeing that he'd mostly finished his bacon anyway, Shell wrapped her arms around Gideon, "Mostly, I just need this man to tear all my clothes off." Sam chuckled appreciatively. Ulfric massaged the bridge of his nose. Apparently, that was becoming the norm around here. So much for decorum in his castle. He blamed Sam.

"Well, never let it be said I left My Lady wanting." Gideon picked her up and shuffled off back to the bedroom with her. Ulfric took that as his cue to have his schedule cleared, and warn Tyrlief and Fey. Blaise would try to make friends with Betsy all his own. That done, perhaps he'd see if Galmar had time to spar. He sensed things were about to become very busy around Windhelm, and getting out of practice was not an option.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Wemie blew the requisite obstinate wisp of hair out of her face, and surveyed the Stormcloak recruits Galmar had put under her eye again. Most of these youngsters were straight from the farm, and it showed in their narrow outlook of the world and the way they were still flailing at the pells like cowherders. This would never do.

"Hold!" She grinned. Well, at least Galmar had been able to beat that much field etiquette into their heads. "Are you herding cows, or fighting Thalmor?" They shifted, glancing at each other, still unsure what to make of this elven-looking Khajiit, especially since half of them were convinced she was half Altmer or something, and weren't Khajiit part of the Dominion? "Well?"

When no answer was forthcoming, Wemie hefted a practice blade in hand, took a square footed stance, and sliced down on the pell's shield arm. There was a satisfying 'crack' and the shield tilted at an angle. "Done right, that can save your life. Done wrong, like you lot were doing, and I'd be bringing you home on your shields. Questions?" She tried not to react to the soft chuckles from Galmar. It was nice to know all that time with the caravans had been good for something.

"Perhaps a demonstration would do these green bellies some good," Galmar offered. It wasn't nearly as innocent a suggestion as it might have sounded; he'd caught Ulfric headed their way out of the corner of his eye. Never let it be said Galmar wasted such a golden opportunity.

"You ready for another beating already, Galmar?" Wemie teased. The collective gasps from around the ring were well worth it. That Galmar only laughed shut them up.

"Hardly, but I see our High King needs a good practice session as well. Why not kill two birds with one stone?" He grinned as the Khajiit's eyebrows shot up.

"And what birds would those be, Galmar?" Ulfric was now right behind him, stretching.

"These recruits get a lesson, you get a solid beating, and I don't get tired." Galmar grinned as he leaned against the post. "She's young and limber enough to keep up with you."

"You're not in your dotage yet, Galmar." Ulfric stepped into the ring opposite Wemie and saluted. "Shall we show these younglings how it's done, then?"

Wemie raised an eyebrow, and studied Ulfric's form. That was definitely the stance of an experienced campaigner, not a noble used to dictating battles from his throne. The stories in Cyrodiil held him as a warlord (war mad, some opinioned), but all tales agreed that he had actually been on the battlefield as much as off it. She was in for a workout.

The young recruits were muttering again. Pointing at them with the practice blade, she called, "Watch the shots." She turned, saluted Ulfric, and waited on Galmar's call to begin.

Ulfric knew he was in for it from the first lunge. Wemie rolled smoothly under the strike, popping up behind him. He barely pivoted in time to catch her blow on his greatsword. It rattled his arm. He raised his eyebrows at her. She smiled back up at him, challenge shining in her golden eyes. "Problem?"

"None at all," and their dance continued. Strike and counter, parry and dodge. They moved over the entire ring, but never so close the recruits had to move. It was rather eerie.

"That was clever, where did you learn such a sweep?" Ulfric had to do a fair sidestep to not get bowled over by Wemie's shield.

"Caravan trip, Bruma to the Imperial City," Wemie feinted, only for Ulfric to deftly counter it. Now she was doing some fancy dodging herself. "The Guards Master taught me. Now where did a Nord learn to move like water?"

That made Ulfric laugh out loud. "Galmar's tender hands. It was get out of the way or get flattened."

"You wouldn't learn from anything less," Galmar laughed from the side.

Wemie found herself spinning out of Ulfric's way, as he attempted to use Galmar as a distraction. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't as distracted as he would have liked, and scored a back pat on his bum as she spun around him. That certainly got the recruits hollering.

Overall, Wemie was impressed with Ulfric. It wasn't many men that could keep a fight going with a greatsword against a sword and shield fighter. Usually, if the greatswordsman didn't get the first lick in a one on one fight, he didn't win. The sheer weight of the massive weapons usually ensured the fighter would tire long before another fight would end. Ulfric was making her work for it.

The really rankling thought was that she might not win this one. She wasn't overplaying it when she said he moved like water. Wherever her sword was going, by hook, crook, or sideways, Ulfric wasn't there.

Old campaigners usually had quirks to their movements from old wounds, but if Ulfric had any, they weren't showing. There were two ways a man would come by that; either an iron discipline to train those wounded muscles back to shape, or from hiding tells, usually for ominous reasons.

She wasn't sure if she was just impressed or turned on by that. He was a rather intoxicating mix. He was an experienced fighter with the smooth movement of a stripling, all poured into a very solid, very masculine body. Wemie tried to pull her thoughts out of where that heated train of thought would lead, only to feel her feet coming out from under her…thanks to a low sweep of Ulfric's greatsword. Surprised golden eyes looked up into a very smirky satisfied face over a long blade at her throat. "Do you yield?"

For once, she was very glad for the more relaxed nobility of Skyrim. A person's worth wasn't determined by station in life. Instead, their station in life was determined by their worth. Ulfric had worked damned hard for his respect, and now she had apparently earned his. He hefted her easily to her feet, his large warm hand wrapped comfortably about hers. Coupled with her earlier distracting thought, Rommy's butterflies decided to use her stomach for a family reunion.

She was ready to punch Tyr for putting the suggestion in her head, she really was.

Was it possible, though? Surely a King, much less a High King, had to marry someone from a noble bloodline? At the very least, someone that could offer something to the kingdom? She wouldn't settle for less, either. She was no one's love on the side, and her previous relationships, though they had ended, had always been founded on the possibility of marriage. If Ulfric couldn't offer her that, it was time to rein those thoughts in.

Wemie took a deep breath, and stepped back from Ulfric. "So, who can show me what they learned from that bout?" The groans from around the ring were music to her ears. They were the perfect distraction from the highly distracting man beside her. She refused to think about that sunny grin wiped like magic from his face when she let go of his hand, and focused instead on correcting these farmboys' swings before they got themselves or someone else killed.

"Alright, I'm tired of watching him mope. You go talk to Ulfric, I can take these hamhands from here." Galmar nudged Wemie from her self-appointed post. She turned to see Ulfric nonchalantly leaning against a wall, watching her with the recruits.

Wemie turned high eyebrows to Galmar. "Moping?"

Galmar snorted. "I've known Ulfric since he was in short pants. That's moping. Now go talk before he starts sulking." A gentle shove in the right direction finally got Wemie moving. Sure enough, the closer she got to Ulfric, the straighter he stood, and the more he smiled.

"I have been sent to stave off a sulking. Why would you be sulking?"

"Me? Never. Why would I sulk when the best new sparring partner I've had the pleasure to meet in years runs away immediately after?" Ulfric's sunny smile gave off enough heat to make Wemie's cheeks flush.

"So, that sweep move you did on me…"

**.**

* * *

**.**

Any idiot with ears could tell the house was filled to the brim with people. It was a good thing it was in a part of the city only frequented by residents, or there might have been noise complaints. As it was, Cruel-Sea's servant was shooting them stern looks from where he was sweeping the night's snow off the front step.

Gideon listened in as Runa explained loudly and in detail to Alesan about something Blaise had done wrong. He wondered if his and Merc's knocks would be heard over the general noise level. They could but try. "Shave and a haircut' rang against the solid wood door.

Immediately, the door swung open to reveal a Golden Saint in a green dress, blinking at them in surprise before her face erupted with smiles, "Lord Gideon! Lord Mercutio!"

"Uhhh," Mercutio was worried. There was a Saint answering the door. She was in mundane clothing, and answering the door. He wondered if calling for Sam would be a good thing, or make things spiral even further afield. Saints and Sam, yeah, no, he'd figure it out himself.

"Hello, uh, Mehris, is it?" Mercutio wondered how he even figured out which one it was. Goldie was the only one he could consistently get right.

Her already bright face brightened, "You remembered!"

"Who is it, sweetie?" Valori asked, coming up behind her new Aureal wife and wrapping her arms around her, peeking up at the men. Well, at Gideon, anyway. Both the Saints and Seducers were about as tall as Merc in bare feet. "Oh, milords! Come to wake your wife?"

"Yes, Sam told us she came in last night, and brought all the kids? Ulfric sends his greetings and an invite for dinner," Mercutio answered from Gideon's shoulder.

"Are we invited?" Valori asked guilelessly, blinking big black eyes at him.

"I thought we'd spend that time getting loud," Mehris whispered, not quietly enough.

"Has he even woken up yet?" Valori asked her curiously.

"Let's find out," Mehris said, stepping out of the doorway as they started for the stairs hand in hand.

"Um, Ladies, I'm very glad to see you, but…what brings you here?" Gideon studied them with something akin to awe and confused curiosity. Usually, Seducers and Saints spent their time snipping and sniping each other. These two were being downright affectionate, and 'he' who? Erandur? That didn't sound right, but who else could they mean?

The Girls glanced at each other, then back to the men. "We got married!" they chorused.

"Congratulations! I'm guessing Erandur conducted the ceremony?" Mercutio offered.

"Yes," Mehris said, pulling in her new wife for a cuddle. "Erandur gave us Mara vows and Rommy gave us away and now—"

"Now we're both Mrs. Ralof!" Valori cried happily.

Gideon leaned against the doorjamb chuckling, while Mercutio laughed himself into a gasping fit. "Couldn't have happened to a more deserving man. Very happy for you three," he finally managed, still laughing weakly.

"I'm very happy for you both, very surprised, but very happy," Gideon offered when some of the daze wore off. "How did you three meet, even?"

"Lord Sam left him in the Fringes," Valori explained.

"I had a snare out for a stray balliwog that kept biting people's ankles off," Mehris put in.

"I found him dangling in it during my patrol."

"And then we fought over who got to keep him."

"But Lord Rommy was there with the Queen."

"And they said we could share him if we gave him back."

"But when we gave him back, we really missed him," Valori pouted.

"And we comforted each other—"

"—but it wasn't the same without him."

"And then we discovered the babies," Mehris rubbed her stomach.

Gideon and Merc's mouths both dropped. "Babies?"

"We're raising them here," Mehris grinned her golden grin, "Ralof is building a house."

"But first," Valori's grin developed an edge all Telki's husbands were familiar with, "we're honeymooning."

"May your honeymoon be a pure delight. May we come in?" Gideon gave a polite bow to both new wives, and Merc swept them a bow as well, following his lead.

"Of course! It's your house!" Valori reminded them laughingly. "Oh, and congratulations, Lord Mercutio," she added, pulling Mehris toward the stairs. Mehris only resisted out of sheer mischief.

"Thank you?" Mercutio woke up a bit at Gideon's sharp elbow reminder. "Um, what am I getting congratulated for?"

"For becoming a blood member of the royal family, goose!" Mehris giggled. "Now Lord Rommy can leave the Isles to the Queen or you!"

"Or Tyr, or Blossom, or Orien," Valori shrugged.

"And also," Mehris looked him up and down, "for being able to walk after becoming Lord Sanguine's consort."

"We heard you're no good at Restoration," Valori explained apologetically. "We were all very worried."

"Um, thank you for the concern, Sam's been, very considerate." Merc now understood Telki's knee problem. His weren't feeling too strong right now. He could wind up the next Mad God? Consort? Restoration a necessity? Egads.

"We know. We're all very proud of him," the Seducer said. "Good luck!" they chorused, running up the stairs.

"So, that happened. Are you okay, Mercutio?" Gideon still looked bemused by it all.

"Let me get back to you on that. Let's go wake Telki and Erandur." Mercutio's step was steady, even though his voice was anything but. That was a lot of news to take in such a little time, and delivered so blithely he wasn't sure it all sank in yet. They both made their way on in. The house smelled faintly of woodsmoke and baking. From here, they could hear the epic snow battle raging in the sheltered courtyard. Hjerim was now a four wing building, surrounding a play area for the kids. Just off to their left, though, they could hear crying near the stairs. They both went to investigate.

There, under the stairs, curled around her dulcimer, was a crying Murril. Mercutio's heart broke for her, the indrawn gasp behind him let him know Gideon was of a similar mind. "Murril, oh Murril, what's the matter love?" Mercutio sat down next to her, and pulled her into a comforting hug. She'd been around them enough over the last few months to let him, even though he was human.

"Murril? Oh, Boys, you're home!" Telki was still wrapping up in a warm housecoat, not even stopping to dress properly, all the evidence they needed that someone wasn't where she was supposed to be.

Gideon sniffed the air. "Do I smell scones?"

"I'm guessing Lucia and Runa. Rommy gave them a recipe, and this has been their first real chance to try it without adult supervision. Smells right. I'm guessing that's what lured Murril out, and why the tears. Oh honey." Telki sat right down with them, three adults in the middle of the floor, coddling one sad little moppet.

Murril climbed carefully from Merc's lap to Telki's, snuggling in with little hiccuping sobs. She'd thought Daddy was home! She'd been taken from the Isles so abruptly the day before, and without a goodbye, and she'd thought he'd come back to say he was sorry, and put her in his pocket, and hand her berries, and smile and make all the Bad Thoughts go away. But he hadn't, and she was alone, and cold, and wanted him.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry. I wish I could make it all better for you, but you do have me, and Merc, and Giddy, and 'Randur. Can't we help a little?" Telki cuddled her close, rocking and soothing her as best she could, singing an old lullabye she'd found supposedly in Aldmeris. Murril quieted and eventually drifted off to sleep, having had a long, fitful night, as some of the bruises on the adults could testify.

Telki carefully and quietly picked her up, and took her back to her room, tucking her in next to Erandur, who had borne most of the punishment. Murril sighed and snuggled in next to him, Erandur sleepily pulling her in with one arm. She stood a moment just admiring the two, and then shooed Merc and Giddy back towards the dining room, far enough away they wouldn't wake them up. Hopefully, there would be less kicking this time around, though Erandur might have a mark in his chest from the edge of the dulcimer.

"Okay, fill me in, what's what?" Telki slung herself across them both for snuggles, because she'd missed them, dang it. It was one reason she liked the dining bench. It had enough room for everyone.

"Not much, nothing transpired they were willing to pull me and Shell out of our room for." Gideon sheepishly shrugged shoulders, still not quite sure how he was talking about his lover with his wife.

"Same here, well, you know Sam and I are, we uh, yeah." Merc was blushing bright as a snowberry.

"Oh you two," Telki shook her head affectionately. "Maybe it'll come with time. So, my news, then: I've moved the whole kit and kaboodle here until things calm down. Lydia's here, too, though she opted out of sleeping with a kicking Murril." Telki privately thought she probably did that so at least one of the adults were awake and well enough to monitor kids in the morning, reminding her why Murril was here in the first place. Telki's breath hitched. "There's more. Rommy's going to be out of pocket for a few days. Apparently, he's not allowed himself enough crazy time, and he needs to give it a full indulgence. It scared him enough he left Murril here with me."

Gideon and Mercutio shared a worried look, clearly at a loss for what to say.

"Yeah I'm worried. Worried that he's been hurting himself over me, and worried because he doesn't trust me to handle this side of him too, and then poor Murril." Telki turned to look back towards the bedroom, as if she could see them sleeping through all the walls between. "I mean, he sent her here rather than trust himself with her there!"

Mercutio chewed his bottom lip. "I could ask Sam to look in on him?"

Telki laughed weakly against Gideon's comfy shoulder. "What is life coming to, when I'm asking the Daedric Prince of Funtimes to look in on my Mad God fiancee? Mara's mercy."

She snuggled down into Gideon's shoulder, letting his familiar scent and warmth soothe her. She'd missed them both. "Okay, all the dirty laundry's been aired now. Does Ulfric know we're here?"

"He does, and invites us all to dinner this evening." Mercutio rubbed Telki's calves.


	14. That Loved Not at First Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shell perched on the roof and stared down at the tumble of children running around, shrieking like banshees and seemingly having a great time. They were very energetic and carefree, filled with enthusiasm and joy and looking all cute and…

"I'm doomed," she sighed, sitting back against the chimney.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Wondering why you haven't learned to sneak yet," Shell said, giving Blossom a sideways look.

"I kept scaring the guards, so Da asked me to learn to stomp," Blossom shrugged, moving across the tile and snuggling into Shell's lap. "Who're they?"

"Uh…to me? Not quite sure yet. Otherwise, they're Telki's," Shell said, examining them.

"So they're Giddy's too?" Blossom surmised, watching the game and wondering if they would let her play if she asked. It looked fun, and like she'd be good at it. She'd already worked out two or three ways she could cheat.

"Yes," Shell sighed, "Yes they are."

"Would that make you their mom?" Blossom asked, confused. She tried to picture Shell as a mom and failed.

"One of the things I'm trying to figure out," her sister said, shifting a bit as the cold seeped through her armor. "I…I don't really understand children," she said. "I mean, you and Orien are my siblings, and the other Young Ones were Young Ones. What do you do with children with no more discipline than a basket of puppies? How do you get them to  _do_  anything? I don't even know what counts as misbehavior or not!"

"What about Pearl?" Blossom noticed the exclusion curiously.

"Pearl's not really a child," the Bosmer shrugged. "I want to like them, and have them like me, but…I really don't know what I'm doing."

"Do you want to hear what Da told me when I didn't know how to make friends?" Blossom offered after a moment.

"Sure," Shell replied, surprised.

"Don't stab them."

"I should have guessed."

"Where'd you get the black armor?" Blossom examined it, poking at the Nightingale emblem.

"A floaty lady with birds gave it to me," Shell replied, eyes once more on the children running about the yard.

"Neat. Can we go back, now? Watching the game is boring when you can't play," the little girl requested.

"Sure thing,  _bellani,"_ Shell slid over the arch of the house so the children wouldn't look up and spot her and made her way back to the Palace of Kings as easily as if she were walking on the ground and about as unnoticed as a street cat.

"Shell?" Blossom ventured quietly after they slipped in through Shell's open window. "I…If those kids don't like you, I still do!" she burst out, blushing, then cuddled her startled elder sister. "You still have me!"

"Thanks,  _bellani,"_ Shell's eyes were mysteriously misty, but her smile was all sunshine, "That means more than you know." Giving the girl a kiss on the forehead, she sent her out searching for her twin, then turned back to decide what to wear to dinner.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Telki was having to sip Sober Mead herself by the time she and her spouses got everyone ready to go to dinner at the Palace of Kings. Between the inherent noise, worry, and 'I can't find my tunic!', she was sporting a headache worthy of a Sam's night out. Seeing a similar crease between Erandur's brows, she passed the bottle to him. He gave her the most beautiful smile in thanks.

"We ready to go?" she asked when he handed it back. She deftly tucked the bottle back in her dimensional pocket.

"All present, dressed, and accounted for." He looked over the kids like a general inspecting his troops. Telki had to hide a grin when they straightened their posture accordingly. Even Murril glanced at the others and stood straight as a Saint or Seducer on duty.

"Everyone got their heat charms?" Telki folded her arms. She was not listening to a chorus of 'but I'm cold' all the way to the palace. Seven dutiful hands raised, showing their charms on either a wrist or neck.

"Coats?"

Murril fluffed up the adult fur coat she'd borrowed from the wardrobe, belted to her waist to hold it up but still making her look a bit like a fluffball, and grinned through the small hole her face was peeking through. She'd pulled the strings in the hood as tight as she could get them, so it was mostly her nose that stuck out, though it made her head look rather odd and oblong, as her ears were trying to escape either side. Telki found her irresistibly adorable. Sofie, of course, had to have one, too. The pair of them looked like nothing so much as a pair of seagull chicks that had escaped the nest. The others were happy with their fur lined cloaks, too adult to wear the fluffy look, thought Francois had seriously considered it.

The walk to the Palace was filled with excited chatter about what they'd do, who they'd see first, and what the cooks might have prepared for supper. It was probably the liveliest walk to the palace Telki'd ever enjoyed. She bounced the door open her usual way, and flounced inside.

Three enthusiastic squeals met Telki and family the minute they crossed the threshold. Blossom and Orien were loitering with all the stealth of Bacon at the end of the table, trying to see all the new potential playmates. Pearl stood next to them, resigned.

Ama, Wemie, and Nala made a thorough hugfest and greeting, everyone talking over everyone as they all caught each other up on what had happened since the attack. Pearl rubbed her head at the tangle, while Orien bounced in excitement and Blossom squinted, trying to follow all the disparate conversations. Talon, walking in from the kitchen (apparently the cook only felt comfortable if he entered the kitchen first. Somehow, someone had convinced the poor addled man that the "ghost" was even more frightened of Talon than the cook was of it), paused to stare, both puzzled and a bit taken aback by the sheer amount of noise. How were any of them managing to get any sense out of the babble?

Fey glanced at Tyr, jerking her head a bit at the bunch. He grinned and put an arm around her, "Yeah, that's normal." He nodded to Galmar's little adopted boy, who looked somewhat intimidated and had both hands clapped over his ears, "You'll all get used to it."

Telki looked over at Orien's little face, after getting all her requisite hugs and greetings. "Whatcha doin' way over there? You have cousins to come say 'hi' to." Telki beckoned to him.

Turning bright red, Orien grabbed Blossom's hand and waved, "Hi," he said, a little more shy than usual due to the sheer amount of people.

Seeing this, Blossom nodded and, taking her courage in hand, marched forward, dragging him with her. "Hi!" she yelled, then stood there, wondering what she was supposed to do next.

"Hi! Hey, you're…" Francois' eyes got very big. "Are you  _really_  one of Momma's kids?"

Blossom stared at him like she had just realized he was actually a sea sponge, " _You're_  one of Telki's kids."

"But you look like her. I'm adopted. I'm gonna find my real parents, someday. She said she'd help me."

"That's Da's fault," Blossom replied dismissively. "He gave us his colors."

"I like it," Orien said, tugging at a lock of red hair.

"I never said I didn't like it, I said it's his fault," his twin said.

Francois looked over at Tyr, puzzled. "Is  _he_ related to Momma?"

Sofie sidled around him to look at the twins, looking at them much as she would a candy shoppe. "Hi. I like you. Can I hug you?" she asked Orien.

Blossom bit her lip and reminded herself fiercely that the first rule to making new friends was not stabbing them as her twin let go of her hand to hug the strange new girl and willfully refrained from telling her she looked like Bacon in that coat. She felt somewhat better when she was nearly knocked over by Murril, who had seen her face and thought she was lonely, so tackled her.

"Hey! After dinner, wanna play hide and seek with us? Momma promised us we could play in the courtyard here at the castle." Runa joined the hug fest around the new kids.

Orien glanced at Blossom, who was looking strangely unsure, and grabbed her hand. "Can we really? Can Pearl? And Bjartr?"

"'Course! Momma Telki says the more the merrier," Blaise assured them. "And I heard the Courtyard's big enough to hide a mammoth!"

"Oh! We should have Betsy play, too!" Orien bounced.

"Who's Betsy?" asked Sofie, wanting to hug Blossom too, but worried at the frown she got earlier.

"She's a bit too old to be playing hide and seek," Tyr headed that off before it got too far, coming over to kneel next to his son, who automatically cuddled up to him. Blossom was feeling off-balance enough to join them, and Tyr gave her a little smile, putting his arm around them.

"Betsy is Da's mammoth friend!" Orien told Sofie. "The other Nords call Da 'Mammoth Rider.' It's his Honor Name, even though he has a clan name."

"That's so cool! I want to be a mammoth rider, too!" Blaise was bouncing on his heels. "Do you think I could, at the picnic tomorrow?"

Tyr shrugged, "If your mother says yes and Betsy likes you, sure," he said, wondering when someone was planning to tell him about the picnic.

"Yes!" Blaise did a little victory dance right there, causing Gideon to drift over to their particular huddle.

"What mischief are you brewing now, Trouble?" Gideon ruffled the boy's hair.

"Betsy's gonna let me be a mammoth rider tomorrow at the picnic!" Gideon, long familiar with Blaise's particular enthusiasm, quirked a skeptical eyebrow.

Blossom glanced up at Tyr, "So can I just pick words you say, too?"

"No," he chuckled. "Not unless you want your use-name to become 'Trouble' too." She wrinkled her nose at that and shook her head.

"I see the picnic has been finalized, as well. That was one of the things we wanted to discuss with you and Ulfric, since you know best whether Betsy and her herd would even allow such a thing."

"The herd wouldn't, but Betsy might," he looked right at the rambunctious little boy, "provided they're calm and quiet around her."

"So, Calm spells all around, then." Gideon ruffed Blaise's hair. "We may just have to have the picnic in the courtyard, and introduce Betsy to a few at a time, then."

"Getting her into the courtyard would be a task in itself," Tyr said, standing when he realized Blossom was trying to climb him like a skittish cat would a tree. Orien seemed fine on the ground, bouncing around the new children like he'd been doing it all his life, but Blossom was a bit more clingy than usual. He found this a bit odd, since she was the only one of the two to grow up with other children.

Pearl walked over calmly, looking them over, holding Fey's hand. "Did you want to play, Pearl?" the girl's mother asked her quietly.

"Perhaps," she said, still examining them. "I might just study."

Nala had made her rounds, and was feeling a bit worn out herself from all the kids. She was near enough to hear Pearl. "Well, if you'd like. I've got permission to peruse Wuunferth's private library. Wanna join me after dinner?"

"I would enjoy that," Pearl said with a small smile. She'd come to like the Khajiit over the last few days, even if she had reluctantly admitted the woman was better at fire spells than she was.

"Cool, I could use an extra pair of eyes. If Wuunferth's library doesn't have it, not sure it exists at this point," Nala admitted to her. "And you are a very thorough researcher."

Her ears almost twitched as the words caught her attention. "What are we looking for?" she asked, eyes sparkling with interest.

"What happened to Rommy, how often it's happened, and things of that nature." Nala chewed her finger. "Let's leave it at, I'm protective of family? I don't want anything happening to endanger her happiness. I'm actually rather reassured it's not common knowledge."

Tilting her head a little, Pearl wondered aloud, "I wonder if Lili would know anything."

"If she doesn't, she just might make it up to watch what happens," Fey said with a bit of humor. "Might I suggest asking one of the two Princes we're acquainted with?"

"Well, one of them is unavailable, and the other, not sure he'd be willing to talk to me about this." Nala grimaced, and had to move to the next nail. "Truthfully, I wouldn't mind finding something in all this that helped him deal with his curse."

Fey sighed, "Just…do not get yourselves into anything you cannot get safely out of," she cautioned. "All this business with Daedra frightens me, and that is not something I admit to often."

Nala had to think on her answer. "I have to treat them like people. There are plenty of people, including you, that could end me. Yet, I cannot live frightened of everyone that could do that. That's not living, and if this can help the ones I love? More reason to put my fear on the shelf and do it anyways."

Mother and daughter gave her identical pensive looks. "You are an interesting person, Nala," Fey finally said.

Nala raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Coming from you, that means something."

Fey smiled a bit, eyes dancing, "Thank you."

"Speaking of frightened people," Pearl glanced around. "Where's Shell?"

**.**

* * *

**.**

"Now, what could possibly entice my darling Shell to come out here at this time of night?" Gideon's steps were quiet as he made his way to Shell's perch on the roof. Dinner time this far north meant sunset, which still tinged the western horizon, but only just. Stars peeked out overhead through a veil of wispy clouds just thick enough to hide them.

"Uh…"she glanced around, then pointed up, "Aurora?" Since there wasn't one, it was a very weak excuse. She'd finally settled on a blue tunic that made her skin seem to glow—useful for when she knew she was going to be pale with anxiety. Then she'd finally gotten up the nerve to go down and see the children, and they were everywhere, talking to everyone, and she'd needed another moment. Or year or so.

Predictably, she'd ended up at the highest point she could quickly reach, trying to still her thoughts. She was freezing in her Nightingale cloak, but she found she didn't mind so much at the moment.

"I swear, you don't dress warm on purpose, just so I'll hold you more." Gideon scooped her up, cuddling her close. "I'm guessing the noise got too much? Blossom didn't seem to care for the horde, either."

"Gideon…for a Young One, I am very, very undisciplined," she told him, "And I can't remember ever being that unabashedly noisy, or nosey, or…do they always want to know everything now, now, now?"

"Remember who adopted them, and then tell me the answer." Gideon rubbed his chin in her hair, thinking. "So, how do I help you with this? What do you think could help you face that exuberance?"

Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of his lap and stood, staring at him and holding out a hand, "Drag me in," she said seriously.

A wolfish smile wreathed his face for a moment. "I'll go you one better," and scooped her up over his shoulder, laughing as he nimbly made his way back to the access hatch. "One Shell to be delivered to the family mash, coming up."

There were some fervent prayers to both Mara and Auriel coming from his back. "If you slip," she started, then paused. "If you slip we get to go to bed with a healer attending us. Slip."

Gideon laughed, and lightly patted her bottom as he opened the hatch and descended the stairs. "Sorry, you're not the only one used to dancing about on uncertain footing. Erandur would know I did it a'purpose. Angry Erandurs are to be avoided at all costs."

The cursing turned to elvish, with the only real discernible word being "Sithis."

"Now now, these are our kids you're being afraid of, do you think hugging to death is a real possibility?"

"I don't think I'm mother material!" she burst out anxiously. "What if they all hate me?"

Gideon rubbed her back consolingly. "Is that what you're worried about? They won't. That's a promise. Just be yourself, and they will love you."

"What if…" she sighed and finished quietly, "what if I can't handle it?"

Gideon was quiet as he walked her down the hall. "That's part of the beauty of what I'm bringing you into, Shell. There's room for all kinds. Lydia loves playing house mother, Telki's sometimes the mother hen, sometimes the adventuring provider. There's room here for however you want to fit yourself in. You can even be an 'aunt' rather than a 'mother' if you desire. The kids will love you all the same."

"You know those aunts in the comedies that come in and teach the children about drunkenness and felony tax evasion? That might be my niche. Except the drunken part. What I mean is, I run a guild of Thieves. I'm a bad influence at best."

"No, Sam has that covered, sadly."

"Oh, yeah," she said, perking right up, "I'm not the worst one." Gideon could only chuckle.

"So, remember that, if we can make room for Sam, of all people, what do you have to be worried about?" Gideon rubbed her backside, and then patted it. "Ready to come down from there yet?"

"I suppose it is a bit undignified, even if I like where your hand is," she said, straightening and leaning back so she slipped down his front.

He groaned, but kept his hands on her hips. "Yes, very undignified, even if I like where it put you now." He cuddled her for a moment, resting his chin on her head. "So, not the worst one, not going to be hated, and think what your credit with the kids would be if you joined the game tonight of hide and seek?"

"What good will that do me?" she wondered, "I'd just sit in one place all night until they gave up."

"Or you could be the seeker first, and find them? I should warn you, they learned to hide from Telki, and Ama's played with them since." Gideon tapped her nose; she caught his finger with her teeth, nibbling on it playfully. Gideon groaned, "No, no tempting. You're meeting your fellow hooligans tonight. They will love you."

"One moment," she said, cast Courage on herself, then nodded, "Okay, bring on the hooligans." There was a little pause. "What's a hooligan? Is it a young yahoo?" Gideon nodded and laughed, taking her arm like a proper escort, and leading her back into the thick of things.

From the way the kids reacted, Shell could have been mistaken for a returning hero or favorite bard. From the way she reacted, she'd obviously expected to be hated on sight. She was much taken aback.

"Pappa Giddy! Is this her? Is this Momma Shell?" The little blonde boy bounced in front of her, face wreathed in a happy grin.

"Not yet, doofus, they have to get hitched first." Blaise bumped the younger boy's shoulder. "Is it true you kidnapped Pappa Giddy right out from under the Thalmor's noses? How'd you do that? Did you really ride on Odahviing? What's it like?"

"Um, no, I told them he was my new puppy and they believed me, and yes, I did, and I will be using a rope next time, or at least holding on tighter."

Sofie's eyes got very big. "You can turn him into a puppy? Can I see?"

"No, I can't. Thalmor are just that stupid sometimes," Shell replied, smiling a little. "If you like baby things, my sister Pearl has kittens, though."

"Kittens?" Five heads turned to Pearl, full of hopeful expectation. Blaise, of course, was too cool for that, but even he was paying attention to what Pearl's answer might be, attentively.

"They weren't invited to dinner," she told them after a moment. "Their table manners are atrocious."

"So's Blaise's but he still gets to go," pointed out Sofie in all innocence.

Pearl found herself strangely reminded of Min. "I doubt Blaise climbs up on the table to fall asleep in the serving dishes when they still have food in them."

"Well, one time, when Uncle Sam was here…" Lucia began helpfully, but Blaise used both hands to cover her mouth.

"Shut up! Momma Lydia said that wasn't my fault!"

"And Poppa Erandur said no bringing up old stories tonight," Alesan reminded Lucia.

"Well, why can't we hold a party for the kittens after the dinner?"

"Some other time. They are still growing and need their rest," Pearl said firmly as an adult.

"Hey, are you gonna play hide and seek with us? Momma Telki promised us we could use the big courtyard and everything after dinner." Francois asked hopefully.

"Uh…" her eyes widened a bit at the puppy-eyed look, and she glanced up at Nala. "I'll play if Nala plays, at least for a little."

Nala startled. "Ah, Pearl and I were planning on hitting the books this evening?"

"You're invited, too." Francois turned big adoring eyes to the quiet blonde angel. "Please come play with us?"

"I, uh, er…" the poor girl really had no idea how to deal with these kinds of social situations. While Orien and Blossom could both pull of the big-eyed begging look, they'd never turned it on  _her._  Finally, she sighed. "Nala, can I show you the library after the game?"

"Sure, we can show these guys how to really hide." Nala bent down and whispered to the girl, "Find a good spot, I'll bring the books."

A rare giggle bubbled out of Pearl and she nodded.

Meanwhile, Shell was looking around for Telki, still clinging to Gideon's arm like she might hop onto his shoulder to get away, much like Blossom had. Her poor sister was sitting at the table staring, drinking some warm cider Ama had brought for her. Talon was leaning against the far wall, half hidden in shadow and simply observing everything.

"What's all this? For a moment, I feared the Palace under attack." Ulfric entered the room just in time to disappear under a deluge of kiddie hugs.

"Ulfie! It is, I brought my brood to overwhelm you. How's you?" Telki had Merc by one arm, and Erandur by the other, snuggling them to her.

Tyr glanced at them, opened his mouth, spotted Wemie, and shut up. Blossom gave him a suspicious look, then snuggled into his side. He grinned down at her, enjoying the rare cuddle.

"Well. From this enthusiastic greeting, shall I assume all is well with you?" Ulfric fought his way vertical again, dispensing hugs and setting children back on their feet.

"Is that him?" Valori bounced over, still attached to Ralof's arm. Mehris was dragged behind him, laughing. They both were still in mortal clothing—found it quite comfortable and exotic, really—and everyone kept thinking they were elves, and they really just couldn't stop sniggering about it.

"Aye. Valori, Mehris, may I present my High King, Jarl Ulfric? Jarl Ulfric, may I present my wives?" Ralof bowed, followed by both daedra, giggling at the action.

"Hello!" they chorused.

Ulfric looked from one to the other. "Ralof, you lucky bastard. Two wives? Had Telki a hand in this?"

"I helped free him from their snare? Does that count?" Telki's sheepish answer had Ulfric laughing outright.

"Welcome to the Palace. I hope your marriage is a long and happy one." Ulfric bowed to both ladies, merriment dancing in his eyes.

Mehris pointed at Ulfric and gazed at Ralof inquiringly, "So is he 'Uncle' then?"

Ralof covered his face with a hand, groaning. Ulfric simply laughed. "If you so wish, I would be delighted to add you to the family."

"Oh, not her," Valori giggled, snuggling into Ralof. "The little ones!"

"Little ones?" Ulfric asked, eyebrows rising. Watching them place protective hands over their abdomens gave him all the clue he needed. His humor grew into a great belly rumbling laugh. "Wasted no time, did you, Ralof?"

Once his humor abated, he gently took Valori and Mehris each by a hand. "It would please me greatly, if they called me 'Uncle.'" Both daedra squealed and gave him a crushing hug. Luckily for Ulfric they'd both decided that Ralof had former claim to anything more than simply hugging, or he would have discovered just how red he was able to turn.

"My Lord?" Jorlief called. "Dinner awaits."

"Excellent. If you would all join me?" Ulfric made an expansive hand toward the groaning longtable laden with more food than the table was probably meant to bear.

Shell glanced at it then at Gideon, wondering if it were safe to approach. Orien ran back over to his mother and asked excitedly if he could sit with his new friends. Pearl politely asked Nala if she could sit next to her. Blossom simply turned around on the bench and searched for the sweetrolls.

Francois finally eeled his way over to where Pearl and Nala were sitting to gently tug on Pearl's sleeve, his eyes nearly bugging at having taken such a daring privilege. She turned to look at him, surprised.

"May I please sit with you?" Francois gave her his most pitiful look. Between the blonde curls, huge blue eyes, and trembling bottom lip, it was a force to be reckoned with.

"If you want," she said weakly, puzzled.

"Thank you!" His grin was enough to dazzle, and he happily plopped himself on the bench on her other side. "Would you like me to pass you the fruitbowl?" He wanted to be a good helper and not a pest.

Pearl looked over to her mother, who looked strangely amused, and Tyr, who was outright trying not to laugh, and became very confused. "Sure. Thanks."

The table eventually stopped groaning as food was taken off it and filled the bellies of those sitting at it. Talon sat over between Gideon and Erandur, talking briefly with the now-awakened and much better dressed Tim, who seemed somewhat surprised to see him there. Mehris and Valori took turns feeding Ralof, and all three excused themselves long before anyone else. Shell finally relaxed around the children, and Orien proved that he was learning table manners, no matter what anyone said. Blossom was the one that lassoed a sweetroll to her with her sister's wrist chain.

"That's so neat, you gotta teach me that!" was the only comment offered, and from Blaise, of course.

Shell shrugged, winding it back up, "Maybe in a few years." She wasn't above teaching them assassin's tricks, especially since Talon would probably do it anyway. What you knew, you knew how to defend against.

The inner courtyard was more sheltered garden than anything else. Ornamental trees, fragrant shrubs, and flowering bushes all flourished in the protection provided by the thick walls of the Palace of Kings. It was also expansive enough you could actually lose a mammoth. To the kids, it was the perfect hide and seek paradise, especially with the shadows cast by the torches.

Sighing, remembering what Gideon had said, Shell called out, "I volunteer to be It." She turned to Gideon before he could run off. "How exactly does being It work?"

"Tell you what, I'll be It first, so you can see how it's done. Center planter is Base!" Gideon called.

"What's Base?" she, Pearl, Bjartr, and Blossom all called. Orien decided "Base" meant "sit on it immediately."

"If you get found, but not tagged, you can run to Base and be safe," Sofie explained. "Don't forget Pappa! You have to count to fifty!"

"Fifty, in this place? You'll be sitting on Ulfric's throne for him before I reach twenty five," Gideon teased.

"Fifty, Pappa! You promised!" Lucia called from the shadows, but hard to pinpoint where, the walls making it bounce and echo.

"So, to clarify; we all pick one place to hide, and stay there, and if you find us you have to tag us before we reach the flower pot?" Shell asked, making sure she had this right.

"Well, you don't have to wait to be found to go to base," Alesan said. "Blaise gets bored all the time, and sneaks to base behind the Seeker's back."

"I'm ready!" Orien called, mostly concealed in the flower pot itself.

Runa picked him up out of the pot, sneaking a hug as she did so. Was it her fault he was the cuddliest kid on the planet? Blossom, already completely concealed on a weathervane, glowered at her. "Silly! You can't hide on Base, you have to hide somewhere else, and then run for Base. That's what makes the game fun!"

"Oooh. Okay!"

"Ready?" Gideon looked around at beaming eager faces, some bouncing on their heels. "Go! One!…Two!…Three!" Giggles and laughter filled the night air as all the kids flashed off to their different hiding places, leaving the courtyard looking empty except for the giant Nord in the center calmly and loudly counting to fifty.

"You're not joining them?" Talon asked Nala, coming to lean against the door, watching. "I noticed your twin concealing herself."

"I'm waiting for Pearl's signal. I'm leaving it to the expert to find a hiding spot, and then we're getting some study/girltime in." Nala showed off her spoils of war, heavy ancient-looking books. The elf examined them with interest, though he kept half an eye on the game. He wanted to evaluate exactly what skills the children had.

"Psst! Talon! Talon, wanna hide with me?" The question seemed to come from an expansive collection of tundra cotton to Talon's left.

"No thank you, Blaise," Talon said with a hint of amusement, eyes never straying toward the spot. He was watching Pearl escape through a window into the second story. "Nala, I believe Pearl will meet you back in the Great Hall. It seems she's heading there. Fey created a solar she might bring you to, if you happen to miss each other coming and going."

"Dang, that's impressive. Maybe I should start joining Ama's stretches," Nala groused. Talon had to shake his head slightly to get the image of two pretzeled Khajiit out of his mind. "Thanks Talon. Hope you enjoy your assessment." Nala gave him a cheerful wink and smile as she backed slowly into the room, waiting for the children's attentions to be fully on the game, and not her, before sliding out of view.

Talon's lips twitched up slightly, and he turned his attention back to the game as Gideon finally reached fifty, inwardly laughing at some of the hiding spots the children had chosen. Blaise waited until Gideon was exactly far enough from his patch of tundra cotton before racing quietly to Base, loudly jeering at Gideon for missing him once there.

Blaise's distraction almost worked; Alesan had made it halfway to Base before Gideon noticed, and then it was a footrace Alesan barely won. Talon thought it interesting that the man deliberately slowed his last few steps, before recalling that this was for fun. He glanced up at Blossom, who seemed to be relying on height to conceal her, and found her staring with a wide-eyed look as she caught exactly what he had.

Orien thought this whole running thing was a great idea, and made a beeline for the pot. Gideon shadowed him, making growly noises the whole way as the boy shrieked happily, diving inside like a rabbit going down a hole. Luckily, Alesan caught him before damage could happen to either the little boy or the planter.

Blossom apparently took this to be rules of the game she hadn't heard, for the moment Gideon was on the other side of the courtyard she started hopping along the perimeter of the yard from one bit of wall to the other until she was as close to the planter as she could get, then dropped, rolled toward the planter with the impact, and landed up against it with a wince.

"Woah, you gotta show me how you do that, maybe without the thumpy ending, though." Blaise stared at Blossom like he might have found a new hero.

Blossom blushed, "I learned climbing trees."

"I can climb trees," huffed Blaise, "but I can't drop that far without hurting myself. Momma Lydia told me I was lucky I didn't bust my head open last time."

"Oh, I busted my head a few times learning," she assured him, nodding as if that statement were perfectly normal. "And an arm. Talon made me better."

"He can put people back together? Like with glue?" Blaise's brow wrinkled. "Oh, you meant heals. Wow. He can do anything, huh?"

"He can't Shout," Blossom said smugly. Finally, something up on Talon.

Blaise whispered, "You can Shout?" His eyes were about the size of the sweetrolls at supper.

"I can go all wispy and see-through and make people drop swords," she confirmed.

"Really? Wow, Momma Telki can't even do that. Well, she can knock them down, that makes them drop their swords, usually."

"She can do it; she taught Da and Orien and me," Blossom said, watching Gideon prowl around looking for the remaining children, Telki, and Ama. Shell she could see. She was having a hard time not laughing, really.

Telki, in her hiding spot in the branches of an ornamental tree, had to muffle her laughter with her hand. Shell was following around behind Gideon, mimicking him so well he would never know she was there. Telki got her laughter under control before it gave her away. She wasn't going to lose a game of hide and seek now of all times.

Haffod made a game play for Base when Gideon flushed him out from behind a small aspen, but Gideon wasn't holding back on him and caught him handily before he was seven steps from his tree. "Does that make him It?" Shell asked from right behind them. Gideon jumped half a foot, more startled that he'd ever admit, then spun around, scooping her up and kissing her silly while he spun them around. Shell had just enough brain cells left working from that to wonder if anyone was taking the moment of distraction to make for Base.

Gideon smiled down at her in his arms, liking the dizzy look on her face. "Well, if I don't catch anyone else, now you're It. Last one caught is It next round." He booped her nose, then walked her over and set her down next to Runa, who was sitting on Base like she'd always been there.

Shell twisted and ruffled Haffod's hair. "Hey, you! Hear they're calling you Guilty Initiate now! How's that working for you?"

"Well, I'm not sumping out the septic tank anymore, and I didn't get left to look after the farm animals, so, better?" Haffod blushed under her consideration.

She couldn't help the dismayed laughter that bubbled up, "Oh, dear."

"Well, I rather deserved it, seeing as how I made decisions for someone else, instead of letting them make their own." The words had the flat quality of something recited many times.

"Maybe I should have used a bit stronger wording to explain that I was so lost when you wandered by I didn't know what way was up," she said ruefully. "You may have not wanted to lead me back to Windhelm, but you didn't leave my home-wrecking rear to freeze to death on a mountainside, either."

Haffod flushed scarlet. "I shouldn't have made that assumption, either. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she told him, giving his shoulder a pat, "I wasn't going back to Windhelm that day anyway. And hey, we saved some Vigilants, right?"

"That's right! We did," Haffod brightened up. Shell grinned and ruffled his hair again.

Gideon took stock of Base. "Let's see: Runa, Alesan, Blaise, Orien and Blossom, Haffod and Shell. That means I've still Telki, Ama, Lydia, Lucia, Francois, Bjartr, and Sofie to find."

"What about Nala and Pearl?" Blaise asked.

"They went off to read books together," Runa sniffed.

"Oh." Blaise wondered what on Nirn could be in a book better than playing hide and seek in the dark with everyone.

Shell sighed, "Typical."

"Is Telki going to come down from the tree soon?" Blossom asked. "I don't want to keep sitting here."

"Hey now, no ratting hiders out!" Alesan bumped Blossom's shoulder, his tone light. Blossom looked up at the teenager and shrugged.

"It's Telki, I'll take all the help I can get." Gideon made for Telki's tree, where light laughter rang out. The kids then got treated to a rousing and hilarious chase encompassing the entire courtyard for about three laps. Telki ducked, swerved, and actually doubled back by sliding between Gideon's legs at one point, before alighting on the planter to praise and applause. Ama was there waiting on her.

"And I thank you for the lovely distraction." Ama bowed to her sister, who laughingly took her well deserved accolades. Bjartr popped his head out of the planter, somehow managing to get in there without anyone noticing even as they filled the perimeter of it. Half of them fell off when they jumped at his sudden movement.

Shell sighed hugely, giving them all big, sad green eyes. "I'm It, aren't I?"

"Well, there's still Lydia, Lucia, and Francois to go." Alesan patted Shell's shoulder sympathetically.

"And last time, Sofie fell asleep. We all had to look for her 'cause she'd moved from one hiding spot to another when we weren't looking," Blaise added.

"I'm not asleep, okay?" Sofie yelled, her voice bouncing so they couldn't tell where it came from.

"If I get up and help Giddy look, is that bad?" Blossom, thoroughly bored now, asked.

"Why?" Runa asked.

"I don't want to sit here anymore," Blossom shrugged.

Gideon was already stalking off, disappearing into the shadows. He'd spotted a flicker of movement, and figured it was probably Lydia's hiding spot. They heard muffled words. Apparently, Lydia did not make it past Gideon's long reach, and was having to moderate her speech the hard way.

Sofie stalked quietly just like Momma Telki taught her. She'd bounced her voice, also a trick the bard had taught, but still, it was probably better to find a new hiding place, and the dark shadowed nook by the outcropping looked like a good place to hide. Unfortunately, someone was already there, but it wasn't someone she recognized. Telki had taught her how to handle this, too.

"HI! DID YOU COME TO PLAY HIDE AND SEEK TOO?" Sofie used her loudest and most babyish voice, the one that almost always got her second dessert helpings.

Suddenly, there was a Telki whipping her behind her back, and a Gideon whipping Telki behind  _his_ broad back, facing the intruder. Shell and Talon were there almost as fast, reacting to their actions. The slender teenager in the nook looked like she wanted to climb the building in fright.

"Shit," Shell said, sweeping her hair back. "Sweetie, didn't the messengers make it clear to use the front door?"

Talon made a motion as if he were sheathing something. "At ease, Young One; we won't harm you."

"Honestly, I'd hug you, if you accepted those sorts of things, but you scared us, too," Telki had a hand over her heart, as if trying to still the frantic beating by holding it in.

"I…I wanted to…to see you," the girl stammered, wide red eyes bouncing from one to the next. Her complexion and dark hair screamed Imperial, but the red eyes were all Dunmer.

"Well, that'd be much easier to do if you joined us, and you might give Shell someone challenging to find."

"Telki," Talon nodded at the teenager as she stepped out. "She's been traveling. She might need rest more than play at the moment."

"Aww shug, I'm sorry. You guys carry on. I'll get her settled, and I think y'all might have to hunt where Francois is. He's not out here in the middle of it. I bet you he's asleep somewhere."

"Telki," Talon said again, looking at her patiently.

"She's a teenager," Shell sighed after a moment, voice heavy with significance.

"She's too thin, that leg looks bad, and I was going to get her inside before she freezes to death. You had Fey, who'd she have?"

"Her team," they said in unison.

Telki snorted. "Her team tucked her in, sung to her, and where are they now?"

"Exactly," Shell said glumly.

Telki pointed a firm finger at the young girl. "I'm going to feed you, see to that leg, and once I get you warmed up, you can tell me if there's more to bring in, or who I'm whupping for taking them away from you. I'm going to put my arm around you, put your weight on me until I get you to the table, okay? Okay. Let's go."

A little overwhelmed by the Khajiit in full Mothering mode, the girl nodded meekly and allowed herself to be helped. After a few steps it was obvious she was in quite a bit of pain, and her skin was so cold to the touch it was a bit like the rock she'd been hiding against.

"Okay, hold up." Telki stopped them, puttering in her dimensional pocket. "Take a sip of this, it'll get you set enough I can get you inside, at least." She handed the poor girl what was left of her Sober Mead.

Looking at it dubiously, she glanced up and paled when she saw Talon watching this patiently. "Drink," he said simply, but she reacted like he'd slapped her, and took a large swallow on command.

"Talon, no scaring my new youngen. You hear me?"

"I was a Trainer, it is unavoidable." She'd be scared of him no matter what he said or did.

"You teach me awesome skills, I'll teach you people skills, okay? Okay. How's the leg sweetie?" Telki turned her attention back to the teen.

"It hurts a bit less," she said softly, keeping her gaze firmly down as they made it inside.

"Hey, you're out of that now. You're a person, more, I'm claiming you. So now, you're not just a Young One, you're a foster of the Dragonborn. Anyone gives you grief, they'll have more issues than an college gazette. So, please, let me see those lovely ruby eyes, hm?" Telki put a gentle finger under her chin, asking her to lift.

Looking up slightly as they finally got her to a bench, she glanced around, and visibly flinched to see Talon still there, and twisted her hands in her lap.

"Not one of Faloniril's then," Shell said, watching this.

"Shell, would you be an absolute doll, and bring me that blanket in the Great Hall? She's stone cold," Telki fussed. "I'm going to stomp Erandur if he doesn't quit taking the last frost resist and not telling me."

Gideon came in behind her. "If you need, I can go get it."

"Um," Telki frowned at something. "Hold on, that swelling should be down by now." She bent down to inspect it, indignation rising. "Angel, I don't care how bad things might get from here on out, I do not want to see you ever walking on a broken ankle, okay? Gideon, take her for me? We can put that body heat to use, too."

"Upsydaisy, me girl." Gideon easily swung her up into his arms, and followed Telki on into the Great Hall where food was still laid out on the table. The girl was very passive for this, her initial alarm quickly smothered as she looked down at her hands again. Shell frowned at her as she handed Telki the blanket—better to let the expert handle this.

"Here, honey, wrap up in this, or want me to wrap you?" Telki asked, already expertly wrapping the girl in a cocoon of hearth-warmed tundra cotton, while leaving her an arm free to eat with. Like a well trained team, Gideon was filling a plate with foods easily eaten one handed. He passed it off to Telki when she absently reached for it.

"I'd wait on the food a moment," Talon cautioned, eyes glowing a bit with an Illusion spell as he examined the girl's ankle. "At least until I can get that set. There are bone fragments floating about."

"Oh you poor little love!" Telki was beside herself. "What can I do to help?"

Talon knelt next to her, ignoring the girl's reaction to him approaching her, and eased the oversized, armored boot off. It was obviously being used in place of a cast, and the girl made a whimpering noise as it came off, but didn't cry out. "Telki, do you know how to block pain?"

"I can." Telki's hands lit up with a warm golden light in one, and a soft white light in the other, and placed them about the girl's head. Under her breath, she started a soft, murmuring chant, mesmerizing the girl with her voice.

Talon waited a moment for it to take effect, then began removing the various wrappings around the foot and ankle, soothing some minor frostbite as he went, then gently moving bones back into alignment with a modified Telekinesis spell, Healing them in place once he'd puzzled them back together. When the tricky part was done, he moved on to the inflamed and torn muscles and ligaments. "Have you picked a name, Young One?" he asked her softly, sensing her eyes on him.

"I was called Sura," she said, the pain blocking working just a bit like a drug and slurring her words. "Before…"

"One of Dessnia's?" he asked, still in that soft, soothing voice.

"Yes," she muttered, eyes fluttering a bit like she was falling asleep.

"That explains it," he said, releasing her and stepping back. "There's only so much magic should do at once. She should rest, off her feet, for a few days."

"She'll have her own room at Hjerim. Now, what's this about Dessnia?" Telki used a low heat spell to warm some honeyed and seasoned cider.

"Dessnia's a shrew that opened 'orphanages' to take advantage of the war orphans," Shell said with some heat. "I got rid of some of them, but not all, and she does have other sources for them. She rarely breeds Young Ones; she prefers to use kids that will feel like they owe her something."

"Sounds like we'd be doing all of Nirn a favor if we 'happened' to Dessnia. So, there's no family but us for Sura?"

"There could be," Talon said, "but only siblings. And they would be the same as her. Dessnia's breed of Young Ones work in teams to complete missions—unlike Faloniril's apprentice system, they remain together their whole lives to do as little as spy and as great as burning down the city they were supposed to live in. If there are any Young Ones in Windhelm already, they would be of her type."

Telki snorted and stubbornly folded her arms. "If Sura has any team or siblings left, I have room for them, but that Dessnia has to go, preferably with a mudhole stomped through her head."

"Can I watch?" Shell muttered, having seen quite enough in those "orphanages" to convince her the woman needed thrown off her own Spire.

"Honey, you can leave the other footprint."

"Good," the Bosmer muttered darkly, then glanced at Talon. "Can she eat now? I don't like how thin she is."

"Soft foods, and she might still vomit," Talon cautioned, watching the girl. Poor Sura looked like she was fighting off sleep with pure alarm, now that she was warm and no longer in pain. Her gaze was still unfocused, leading him to believe she had been dosed with something. That argued against her being on her own.

"That's what the warmed honey cider's for," Telki sniffed. "Not my first foundling, you know." Telki placed the plate in front of her. "Eat slowly, shug. Nothing here should disagree with you, and don't feel like you have to eat everything, okay?"

Sura eagerly snatched the cup out of Telki's hand, her slender fingers gaining a bit of color as they absorbed the heat from it. Unfortunately, only time would really tell if the hint of grey was from ill health or her Dunmer heritage. She sipped the drink for a few seconds before nearly gulping the whole thing. Talon sighed.

"Telki, what's happened? Lucia brought in Francois asleep, and said something about a new one?" Erandur came from the bedroom wing, Murril riding his hip. She'd unbelted the fur coat but refused to take it off, so it swung around near Erandur's ankles like he was carrying a Royal Baby.

"Hi Honey, it's a girl?" Telki gave him that wide, sheepish grin.

"I sometimes wonder, Love, if you intend to adopt all of Nirn," Erandur sighed.

"Only the bits that need me," Telki snarked right back. "Meet Sura, another Young One."

"Don't forget the bits of Oblivion that need her," Shell put in sweetly.

Telki pointed a finger at Shell and wagged it. "Ooh, good point. Good thing I have a whole realm for them, though. Don't forget you're part of this madness, too, Chicka. You got as adopted as Sura has."

"She can help me teach the entirety of the Shivering Isles felony tax evasion before we both end up residents," she replied dryly, leaning against Gideon.

During this, Sura's head whipped back and forth, her gaze jumping from one person to another until she turned a bit green and Talon had to hold a Healing spell on her to battle the nausea. "This one—Sura should be in bed," he told them all firmly.

"Did another one show up?" Tyr asked, he and Fey coming in through the entrance to the family wing, having been alerted that another one of their charges had arrived. One look at Telki's protective posture proved she wasn't their charge anymore.

"Meet my new foster, Sura. Giddy, get her to bed. Lucia and Runa can share tonight."

"We have several extras put aside," Fey told her, examining the girl. "The guards would probably be more than willing to bring one to your home."

"That would be very appreciated. Looks like Giddy and Merc get to finish that upper story I wanted."

"Why don't you just ask Rommy to do it?" Tyr asked curiously.

"He's…out of pocket for a while."

"Er…" Tyr's eyes widened as he watched her visibly droop. "Are you alright? And what do you mean, out of pocket? Wasn't Murril the one in pockets?" Murril looked up at the sound of her name, thought this was a great idea, and started searching Erandur's front for pockets.

"Sorry sweetling, but my magic's not that strong. You'll have to settle for a hip ride," Erandur chuckled and hugged her. Murril pouted a bit and flipped the hood over her face.

"Tyr, I'll try to give you all the details later. Right now, Giddy, get her to bed."

Talon slipped off the heat bracelet Rommy had gifted him and placed it around Sura's wrist while she stiffened, looking up at him with wide eyes, then looking like the enchantment had melted her as the cold finally stopped. Tyr's mouth dropped open a bit and he stared, wheels definitely turning. Fey gave him an odd look.

"Tyr, honey, why do you look like you were on the wrong end of a brick toss?" Telki was always one to use someone else's issues to keep from dealing with her own.

Tyr turned excitedly to Erandur, "Erandur, she's Dunmer. Half Dunmer. A little half Dunmer Young One."

"Yes?" Erandur had noticed, but wondered why it was affecting Tyr so strongly.

"She doesn't know about being Dunmer! She's a non-Dunmer Dunmer! We must fix this! She's adorable!" he said excitedly, the relation to Orien really showing through with his enthusiasm. "Now imagine her with sarcasm!"

"The 'how to be a Dunmer' lessons can wait until she's healed up and a little less overwhelmed. You can play with her when she's down to just whelmed," Telki put in firmly.

"Well, obviously," Tyr said, a bit insulted. As another half-Dunmer, learning about his heritage growing up in the Grey Quarter had meant a lot to him. He wasn't sure they really understood what it was like to be adrift from half your culture. "I didn't tell Gideon to stand there like a lump while we talked."

"Why would I miss such an excellent floor show? Sura's sleeping quite easily where she is." Gideon rocked the sleeping teen. Poor thing had passed right out the moment she wasn't cold and in pain anymore. "It's not like she's a burden."

Lydia chose that moment to usher the rest of the shrieking children into the room, shushing them when she spotted Sura. "Come on Gideon. It's bedtime for all these hooligans as well. Shell? Want to walk with us? You can make your scary face when Blaise will invariably try to wander off."

Oddly, Shell's face was serious as she glanced at Talon and Fey, "We'll be walking with you, but I'm afraid we're the ones that might need to 'wander' off." They both nodded slightly.

"As long as you wander back. We haven't had a chance to talk, you and I." Lydia herded children through the great hall towards the doors.

Shell watched the pretty Nord leave and turned quizzical, suspiciously neutral eyes to Gideon, "Why do I feel like there was context there I'm not getting?"

Gideon's cheeks heated. "Because there is. Lydia and I…have not gotten along as well as we might have due to some…mixed signals early in our relationship. I was not ready for more than one sexual partner, and she was hurt by that." Gideon's voice was low, for Shell's ear only as they brought up the rear of the kiddie cavalcade.

"Oh," she said equably. "Well, that's awkward." She paused, watching Lydia for a moment. "Can I ask why? I mean, she's gorgeous."

"Think for a moment the disconnect you feel between the way you were raised, and the way these children are being raised. It was a bit like that meeting Telki. I had been raised to believe marriage was between two people, but was willing to accept Erandur and Mercutio as brothers of a sort. I was not expecting Lydia, at all. She assumed since I agreed to join the marriage, that I was agreeing to partner them all. It's taken time, but what I was taught no longer holds me as it once did."

Shell thought on this a long moment as they got into the street, eyes scanning everything. "What about now?"

"Well, being married to a priest of Mara helped." Gideon's eyes laughed. "A lot of things I had been taught were 'Mara's honest truth' just weren't, and Erandur helped me work through all that."

"Lydia, Gideon. What do you think about Lydia now?" Shell took her eyes off the street to give him an affectionately exasperated look.

"I honestly don't know. I hurt her, badly. I am fond of her, but there's so much past pain between us I don't know if more than fondness is possible. I would rather have her in my life as a friend, than her trying to skewer my guts again."

Making a thoughtful, interested noise, she smirked, "And what about me?"

"You've already skewered me how many times? I think we're past that, yes?"

"Possibly," she skipped a bit, twirling playfully and pretending to examine the stars as if she hadn't a care in the world, "What I meant, though, was what made you change your mind? You treated me like a child at first. Drove me up the wall, really."

Gideon looked at her somewhat wistfully. "Because I didn't think anyone had ever shown you such affection was possible. I wanted you certain sure I loved you for more than sex."

"Well, I think that's been made abundantly clear now," she finally said. "Months of bouncing around Tamriel with nothing more than a couple of heated kisses and I  _still_ couldn't get your stupid smile out of my head," she flushed a bit. "But…you didn't answer my question. That's why you waited. Why do it at all?"

Gideon thought a moment. "Why do any of us fall in love? Had I an answer to that, I could supplant Mara as the Aedra of Love. You and I were the right people in the right place at the right time to fall in love. Where Lydia was concerned, I was not ready and made an absolute hash of it. Perhaps I learned from that mistake."

"Or maybe she didn't stab you enough," Shell teased.

Gideon laughed aloud. "Perhaps, though the blades she uses are much less forgiving."

"I do hope you'll tell me all about it later," she said, eyes flicking over his shoulder. "Now I must go share some of this with my lovely mother." With that, she flounced back to Fey, eyes and hands moving in a subtle, complicated gesture. Talon nodded and slipped away, both Shell and Fey vanishing into the buildings on either side moments after—no mean feat, considering they were elves in Nord territory and two of them were in colored dresses. Gideon half wondered if he'd just narrowly avoided mother level repercussions, or if they were just fanning out to find Sura's team.


	15. If Music be the Food of Love, Play On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiddles are settled for the night, and then the Hijinks commence.
> 
>  
> 
> Illustration screencapped from a Video my husband made in his game. I do not know what dance mod he is using it's 'something he found on a Russian site' ~his words.
> 
> more info here http://fav.me/dcca8uj

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So I thought I'd put a disclaimer on this one. There is some hanky panky happening right at the end of this (though the door literally shuts on it), but it is proceeded by some awkwardly frank polyamory talk about sharing and hurt feelings and messy business, so if that starts to make you uncomfortable, just know that we didn't go into detail past the very beginning of things. If it still makes you uncomfortable, skip to the very last paragraph. There is some personal plot business, but the overall plot isn't furthered by the second half of the chapter.  
> Anyone wondering about cultural appropriation, Telki and Shell were both, individually, made honorary Forsworn. Happy reading! ~Evil

 

The firelight flickered slightly as a knot popped, sending a small spray of embers to dance over the hearthstones containing the fire. Darkness had truly settled in outside, though it wasn't very late, still hours until midnight. With all the children finally settled to bed, the adults found themselves lounging about the hearth, sipping on mulled cider, wondering what Fey, Talon, and Shell were doing and filling Lydia in on what they'd learned of Sura in the Great Hall.

"Okay, other than hunting for whatever did that to Sura, or looking for survivors from her team, what do you think they're doing?" Telki was folded in her seat like always, cradling her warm mug in her lap, firelight rippling across her short fur and bringing a golden glow to the edge of each strand.

"Probably one of those. That sounds reasonable to me," Lydia admitted, tapping her mug. She was long past any surprise by now at how quickly Telki would accept or reject someone. So far, she'd made few false starts in her quick judgements. She wondered how well the new youngling would take her eccentric Thane. It should be entertaining, at least.

"Telki, do you have an extra room?" Shell inquired, suddenly there just at the edge of the firelight. Telki squeaked and bounced in her chair, sloshing cider on her hands.

"Always, whyfor?" Telki turned to Shell's voice, shaking the cider off her hands and wondering who they'd brought back with them. Erandur and Gideon were already on their feet to offer assistance if necessary.

"Weeelll," she shifted a bit, "We found Sura's team. Things were going alright until they saw Talon, thought he was a Thalmor, apparently, and decided to go down fighting. Before that, they were planning on breaking into your house to get their teammate."

"Oh Shor's mercy. How much Sober Mead do I need ?" Telki's brows knit in confusion. "Wait, if her team was alright, why was Sura like that then?"

"We didn't get very far passed the 'hello's before they spotted Talon, though they stared at Mother for a good thirty seconds, so we really know they weren't ever Faloniril's." Shell seemed to find that very amusing.

"Honey, I thank my stars daily there was only one Falofifi. I'm just sorry you had to deal with him." Telki was up and puttering. "Seriously, how much putting back together am I going to need to do?"

"Couple of concussions. Talon took care of the rest before we even tried to move them," she assured her. "And Mother went back to the Palace to get two more beds sent over. We figured they'd be more inclined to give us the benefit of the doubt if they didn't wake up in chains." Shell paused, "Though they might give it to us for waking up at all."

"Waking up is always favorable. Waking up comfortable, all together, and probably being poked by a ten year old, would probably have them wondering if they're waking up on Nirn at all," Erandur mused.

"No to the ten year old!" Shell cried, not bothering to hide her alarm in the least. "Sheesh, have you people learned nothing? Do you know how deadly a seeming ten year old Young One is? They'd probably mistake them for a guard."

"I was afraid of that," Telki growled a little. "Now how to keep Blaise out of their room?"

"Let us take care of that," she waved that worry off, then halted, "Unless he knows how to disarm runes?"

All four adults looked at Shell with identical grudging looks. "It's Blaise."

"Sheer dumb luck would get him past the runes if nothing else," groused Telki. "I found him in my locked chest, in my locked wardrobe, reading some risque bard collections last month."

"I'll guard them," Talon said, walking in with two figures over his shoulders, each shining with some sort of spell.

"Shell? Have them bring a bed for Talon, too."

"I won't be sleeping," he said firmly.

"I want you comfortable; sleep's up to you," Telki replied just as firmly. She would never admit to the stomped foot, but the lashing tail was rather hard to disavow.

Talon graced her with a slight smile, "I will be outside the door, Telki. And I have spent more nights awake than you will ever know."

Telki gave him a quizzical look. "I don't doubt you, shug. In fact, that's kinda why I want to make your life more comfortable from here on out." She shook her head at the nonsense.

"I'll survive. Gideon, would you take one before the Feather spell wears off?" he requested. The Young Ones might be teenagers, but they were near if not at their full growth. He was stronger than some might suspect, but he wasn't  _that_ strong.

Gideon gently pulled the nearest one off Talon's shoulder. "I can take both of them, if there are things you want to do to their room?"

"One's fine," Talon assured him as a knock on the door heralded the arrival of the pair of beds, brought over by some off-duty guards eager to see the inside of the infamous Stormblade's home.

Erandur and Mercutio got the beds situated, while Telki dithered about with blankets and pillows. Shell went ahead and started casting runes on the beds, a long series of them across the headboard. None of them were familiar sigils, and she had to draw them out in small glowing circles caught in the air before gently shooing them toward their assigned place, where they faded into shining strands of power.

Talon waited for the beds to be settled before lowering his burden onto one, removing the hood to reveal a teenaged boy that looked full Nord, with short sandy blonde hair and a face that had probably gotten him into trouble a time or twelve. Gideon laid his burden down on the other one, wondering if the boy was part Redguard or just that fond of the outdoors. His dark brown complexion was about a match for his hair, giving him the all over coloring of a hazelnut, but his bone structure was more Nordic than not.

"Good grief, Shell, are you casting the alphabet?" Telki fussed about the boys, checking them over just for her own peace of mind. She hated to admit it, but Talon was much more gifted with Restoration than she was.

"I'm putting down alarms for us for when they wake, one to make sure they sleep until morning at least, a muffle that holds out sound outside the room but lets us hear what they're doing, and that one's just my signature, so they know they're among friends," she said, sitting back to admire her work then glancing down at the boy and raising an eyebrow. "We're in trouble."

"Why are we in trouble?" Telki asked and sighed when three husbands were suddenly on high alert.

"Have you ever met a handsome teenage boy that wasn't trouble?" she asked archly, going over to the other bed. "Not to mention, we have no idea if his moral compass points more north than south."

"Oh dear," Telki mused.

"That's it, taking Lucia back to Lakeview." Mercutio was already headed towards the children's rooms.

Shell snickered as she cast the runes a second time. "Well, this one's not bad looking, either. Maybe we'll get lucky and they've already fallen head over heels for each other."

"We should be so lucky. No, it's going to be a big mess, because how else is the universe going to laugh at me?" Telki groaned and tsked at Mercutio. "No Mercutio, you are not running off to the lakehouse with Lucia. Down, now."

"But…"

"No."

Talon had moved over the the blonde boy's side, carefully mending the concussion so that his unconsciousness gradually moved into simply normal, deep slumber. "It would be advisable to not allow them unsupervised time with any of your children until we know them better." He paused and glanced at them, "Sura included."

"They're not as worn down as she is," Shell noted. "It could be because she's obviously not Nord at all and the cold affects her more, but it could be she's low in their team dynamics."

"Well, that's going to change, too," Telki groused.

"Telki, you should be aware of the possibility that they know about your habits," Talon said slowly. "Sura is the most helpless of them. They could have taken steps to make her appear more so to gain your sympathy."

"Oh, if that's the case, then I have two brand new sumpmasters. Haffod will be so pleased." Telki's brows lowered into a rather thunderous expression.

"We don't know that yet," Shell reassured her, daring to reach out and place a hand on her shoulder.

"Hugs, Shell, hugs are allowed." Telki used the opportunity to pull her in for a proper one. "You have quite a deficit, it may take a while to make it up."

"It is going to take me a long time to not notice boobs in hugs," Shell said, blushing. Fey didn't really hug her, and the only others she ever hugged were Gideon, her siblings, or—once in awhile—Tyr.

"Eh, I'll deal." Telki ruffled her hair. "So, are our new boys settled? About what time should we check on 'em in the morning?"

"They'll let us know when they're awake," Talon said, leaning over a table and writing out a note. "I've instructed them to knock unless they wish to perish of our politeness."

Gideon snickered, Telki gave him a look. "How did you two wind up with the same sense of humor? Kinda creepy." Mercutio looked as if he were about to say something Telki'd rather not hear. "Nope, don't say it, or else."

"I want to know," Shell skipped over and cupped her hands around her ear, inviting him to whisper. He did, despite Gideon's furiously red face and Telki's tapping toe. Shell glanced back at Telki, then to Merc. "I don't see it," she finally said.

Mercutio was embarrassedly rubbing the back of his neck. "Um, we all see it. When we first met you…"

"No," Erandur was in the doorway, looking at Merc as if he'd grown another head.

"Don't," Gideon nearly barked the command.

"Merc!" Telki held a green fist in the air, rather proud of herself. It was the first time she'd cast Silence without Romulus holding her hand.

Shell looked from one to the other, torn between amusement and irritation. "Well," she said, putting her hands on her hips, "now I  _really_ want to know."

Erandur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do you remember how you met Gideon, what you'd just done? Romulus was along for the ride in Gideon's head. Between your mannerisms and how you mowed through the volunteers, he dubbed you 'Evil Telki.'"

Her jaw dropped open as she stared at him a moment, then glanced at Telki and Gideon.

"For the record, I never called you that," Gideon averred.

"Neither did I, and really, you're more like a sibling these days, than an evil anything. Unless you eat all my honeytreats, then I'd call you evil."

The jaw shut, and a little sound escaped. Shell reached up and covered her eyes with her hand before finally bursting into giggles. "Evil Telki?" she repeated, barely able to breathe. She'd take it as a compliment.

"Feel free to argue with the Mad God about it anytime you'd like." Erandur felt his lip twist up in a wry smile, relieved she hadn't taken the moniker poorly.

"That's fine," she snickered, then gave Telki a darkly mischievous look, flouncing over and putting an arm around her, "I get to be your evil twin. Let's go do something naughty that flusters the boys."

Lowering her voice, Telki replied, "I heard something about Forsworn outfits. Care to elaborate?"

The elf huffed, "Mine's in the Flagon!" she pouted, "but yes. I have a set, you have a set, and I thought it would be very fun to wear them together."

Telki sized Shell up. They were of a size, so she whispered in her ear. "I have two sets of gear. Shall we put on a surprise fashion show?"

Giggling like a mad thing, Shell whispered right back, "Which one of us is evil again?" she laughed, tugging the Khajiit out the door as the men watched worriedly, except for Talon, who sighed and gave thanks to Auriel that he was going to be on duty for whatever antics they were plotting.

**.**

* * *

**.**

"So, When I got thrown in the Markarth prison, I had to make nice with a madman—huh, now  _there's_ a theme—and they gave me a set of armor." Telki was bottoms up rummaging through a large chest. "It turned out alright, though, since that's eventually how I met Brighthand and talked the Reachmen around. They even taught me how to make them. It's not hard, but there's a trick or three to the beading."

Shell gazed out the window, idly running her fingers through the autumn strands of her hair as Telki puttered about behind her, muttering about knowing she left those armor sets somewhere! "Really can't picture you in prison," Shell said, examining the lacy frost that covered the bottom of each bubbly pane. "Speaking of madmen, though, I was hoping Rommy would give me a ride to Riften. It's been a few days, and I usually get news every other day or so. I didn't want to be out of the loop this long." She was getting a bit worried, actually. "It's how I found out the twins were there. And…I've been expecting to hear from someone."

"Oh?" Telki popped up with a fur bikini top in one hand, and a bone necklace in the other. "Oh! Hmm, well then, maybe we need to put off the show, and see if we can bribe Sam into giving you a doorway or something. Our master spy needs to stay in contact with her spies."

Turning, Shell gave her a wan smile, "Hardly a master spy, but I did put that little web together. There's really no one else for them to report to yet. Maybe Bryn is right and I should pick a Second."

Telki's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Serve that suave git right if you made him your second. So, shall I summon Sam? Huh, he may make the fashion show the price for your doorway."

Laughing, she rolled her eyes, "The other former Young Ones wouldn't trust him as far as they could throw him—granted, some of them actually could throw him, so it just might work, but I think I'd prefer to have someone in place that knows all our languages." She thought a moment. "I suppose I don't mind showing off for Mr. Debauchery, but no touching."

"Hey, Sam? Is that a fair deal? A fashion show of skimpiness for a doorway to Riften?" Telki brightened. "Oh! Shell! Go nab Lyds!"

"Um…well, there was actually something I…Wait, doesn't Sam usually show up by now?" she asked, glancing around like he was hiding.

"Oh dear. Sam, you better just be drunk off your butt somewhere. I don't know how to rescue a Daedric Prince." Seriously, was this going to be her life? Worrying about the safety of Daedric Princes on top of everything else?

"I'll see if he's just sacked out on Merc again," Shell shrugged, padding barefoot out of the room and making less noise than the average house mouse. Talon lifted an eyebrow at her as she hopped over him. "Kidnapping Lydia," she said, and he shook his head and went back to reading his book.

"Boys!" she called, making half of them jump from where they were having a very serious looking discussion around the table. "I need Lydia and Sam."

"Sam's not here. He was summoned somewhere, and looked very excited about it." Merc rubbed his face. "That happened back at the palace. No clue where, what, or who he's doing now."

"I can make a few guesses and none of them I want to see," she grimaced. "Don't tell me he took Lydia with him."

"No, I was just checking on the children. What is it?" Lydia came down the hall, a puzzled crease in her forehead.

"Kidnapping is apparently in fashion," Shell bounced up to her and seized her hand, drawing her toward the stairs. "Thought I'd try it on you."

"Lead on."

Shell pouted at her, "That's no fun. You're supposed to resist. Right, Gideon?"

Lydia raised her eyebrow at the Bosmer. "Well, if it's part of the game." Lydia planted her feet. "Help, oh help, I'm being kidnapped!" She even threw one arm up theatrically over her eyes.

Giggling, Shell pulled on her arm for a few moments, unable to move the Nord woman, her bare feet slipping a bit on the polished wood floor. Then she dropped the arm and scampered around, trying to push from behind. Lydia couldn't help it, Shell was so cute and comical about it, she was beset with giggles. A quick look to the side showed all the guys watching with the most ridiculous and indulgent of smiles, which only made her cheeks flame.

Lydia gave a melodramatic sigh. "Oh well, there's no help for it. I guess I'll just have to kidnap you instead." Lydia swooped, scooping the smaller woman over her shoulder effortlessly. "You can wave goodbye to those grinning idiots for the both of us."

Taking a moment to deliberately forget her training and not put Lydia on the floor, Shell blew the men a kiss. "Being kidnapped. See you all later!" Shell was bounced by Lydia's giggling fit. She was having trouble talking through her own laughter, honestly. She'd been a bit worried about Lydia, but the woman seemed fun.

Talon took one look and simply folded his legs up to make room for them, deciding not to comment.

"There you two are! Any word on Sam?" Telki looked up from where she sorting out Forsworn garb for the three of them to take in the two still giggling women, Shell still resting on Lydia's shoulder. "Do I even want to know?"

"Talon has to be the most patient mer I've ever seen." Lydia opined, finally setting Shell on her feet. "And Shell is a surprisingly good sport. Why is there Forsworn armor in my size?"

Shell made an excited noise, "You have a set for Lydia too?"

"I got bored, had the extra fur and trinkets, so, why not?" Telki shrugged.

"Oh, good," Shell looked the housecarl up and down with a grin. "Feel like showing that fantastic figure off a bit?"

Lydia blushed, looking rather conflicted. "I don't usually, I mean, I've never…" Taking in the Bosmer's tilted head and slightly challenging expression, she stood a bit straighter and grinned, "Oh what the hell. Why not?"

Letting out a little whoop, Shell bounced back over to Telki, "So, this has far more beady bone things than my set. I'm guessing there's a reason for that?"

"Brighthand made this for me to dance in," Telki supplied. "The main difference between dancing gear and fighting gear is how much noise it makes."

"Hmm," Shell looked over the loops of carved bone and shell beads thoughtfully. "Are we dancing then? Keep in mind, I only know basics of dancing, but I know a lot about swinging a blade around."

"Oh, do you know the Forsworn's sword dance? I've always wanted a partner!" Telki squealed.

"Um, no, but I know someone who might," she said, looking thoughtful. "I'll ask."

"So, not tonight," Telki heaved a heartfelt sigh. "Welp, just means there'll be a part two show, right?"

"By the time we've got it down to his satisfaction we'll be long overdue to drive the Boys to Rommy's realm again," Shell assured her with a conciliatory pat on the shoulder.

Telki sniffed. "I'll have you know, Brighthand would have no one else but me perform it at his ceremony, thank-you-very-much. Swordwork I may need help on, dancing I do  _not."_

"Actually…I think Mother knows it too," the elf looked thoughtful for a moment.

Hang a second. Realizing Shell hadn't meant asking her mother, Telki looked out the door down the hall to Talon's post by the Young Ones' door. It was difficult to picture the mer in anything but mage robes or his armor, but apparently he had talents she'd never dreamed. "Taaalon?" she warbled hopefully. "You know the Reachman's sword dance right?"

"Yes," he replied warily, giving her a very neutral gaze.

"Would you ever consider partnering me in it?" Telki looked at him hopefully, big eyes wide and shining. "I'm a much better dancer than I am a swordswoman."

About to say no, he paused at this last statement. "You shall have to show me," was all he said. "There are many Reachman sword dances as well. We shall see if we are familiar with the same ones." With any luck, she wouldn't talk the entire time she was dancing. Maybe he'd finally found a way to keep her practiced and keep his sanity.

"'Kay," Telki bounced on her feet, positively giddy. "So, the one I know, we can practice in here, since the Boys are guaranteed to be out for a bit?" Telki widened the door, making room for Talon to walk in.

"Not tonight," he told her, eyes going back to his book. "I'm on guard duty, if you recall."

"Oh, foo. I thought, since we're all awake right now, and the runes and concussions, we'd maybe have a least a couple hours." Telki could feel herself droop; she'd been so looking forward to the dropped jaws and everything. A thought perked her up. "Well, if we have to wait 'til next time, just means I can drag Nala and Ama into the madness, too." She disappeared back inside, only to lean back around the doorjamb, wide eyes blinking hopefully. "Are you certain sure I can't talk you into it tonight? Please?"

"An exercise for a later date," he said, sounding faintly amused. "We don't even know if we know the same dance."

Telki snorted. "It's dancing, not exercise. Dancing's fun." Telki bounced. "And that just means I can add a new dance to my repertoire."

"Hey, Taaalon," Anu help him, Shell was leaning around the doorframe too, "can you teach us the sexy ones?"

"If nothing else, I can teach you the Elseweyr fertility dances," Telki added helpfully. "They're pretty sexy."

"Oooohhh!" Shell exclaimed enthusiastically. "I want to learn those yesterday!"

"Of course, there's partnered versions for these, too," Telki teased at Talon.

"I'm aware," he said, turning another page.

"You know any of them? I can teach you, if you like? Nala's been bugging me about them. I can kill two birds with one stone." Telki's voice had no undertone, and was said with complete honesty.

Talon paused, then actually lowered the book, staring at her with an expression a bit reminiscent of when she'd dropped out a window on him. "You want to teach me fertility dances with your sister? I am unsure we are speaking of the same dances."

"There's three dances practiced widely in Elseweyr proper, five more variations I know, two from Morrowind enclaves and three from bands in High Rock. I'm confident enough I could teach you all of them, if you wanted to learn." Telki gave him a puzzled look. "Why wouldn't I want to teach you and Nala?"

"The dances I was taught were more along the line of what Sam would want to see," he explained, already lifting his book back up. "I was taught several of the folk dances as well, but it has been decades since I last even thought of them."

Telki shook her head. "Well, yes, they're sensual, they're fertility dances. Shouldn't be ashamed just because people can go overboard with them. Sheesh." Telki stopped dead in her tracks. "Or is this a feelings thing?"

"If you are inquiring if I would feel awkward gyrating about half naked you are correct," he said, unflappable as Haskill.

"Honey, you're gorgeous, move like a god, and are probably one of the most dignified people I've ever met. Doing a fertility dance won't change any of that. You've literally no reason to feel shame." Telki left the door open, and finished helping Lydia into the Forsworn outfit. Shell had worn one before, so she didn't worry too much about her. The elf shimmied into the fur armor with ease, only pausing to ensure certain areas didn't pop out, and to cover her scars with an Illusion spell before one of the other women could notice them. Finally satisfied with Lydia's looks, Telki eeled into her own, and took in the three of them. "Reckon they'll be able to keep their tongues in?"

"Oh, I hope not!" Shell laughed, then whistled at Lydia. "Look at how defined your back is!" she enthused, walking around her a bit like a shark.

Lydia felt her cheeks heat, but more with pleasure than embarrassment. Compliments weren't uncommon, especially since marrying Erandur and Merc, but while they did enjoy her looks and skill, no one had ever praised her strength or physique before.

"Speaking of which, um, since the whole point of this is to rile the Boys up, um? After the show, who's going to be comfortable doing what where with whom?" Telki was rather ashamed it took her this long to think of that.

"Oh, I hadn't thought about it, either." Lydia glanced over to the open door, her cheeks flaming, and slammed it shut. Dignified or not, she did not want anyone listening in to probably the most embarrassing conversation in the history of forever. "You know I'm comfortable with you in the room, but…I still…Gideon's a sore point."

"Okay, I'ma put all my cards on the table, girls. I love all a y'all, but I'm still only into men, and it won't bother me any who you do in the room with me. I want all my chicks in one place, dast it." Lydia's cheeks flamed at Telki's words. "So are you going to be okay watching me and Shell with Gideon? And him probably making 'I'm so sorry eyes' at you."

Lydia buried her face in her hands, unsure whether she would actually combust from that mental image. It was embarrassing, true, but the thought also sparked a familiar twinge of guilt that had been growing over the last year. Taking a deep breath, she squeaked, "Telki?"

"Yes?"

"Your therapy sucks."

"Really, you two have carried on this guilty feelings thing long enough." Telki folded her arms. Watching those two mince around each other for so long had been necessary at first, but it was high time they got over it.

Shell really couldn't argue with that, but it wasn't her place to say and the other woman's distress was starting to make her feel guilty and awkward.

"Okay, okay, you're probably right. We're not really going to get over this until we actually, face it, I suppose." Lydia folded her arms over her stomach. "Happy?"

Telki rubbed her forehead. "Look, Lyds, if you would rather kidnap Erandur or Merc, that's fine, but if you think you could manage it with all of us, I'd feel better. I want this thing between you and Giddy done."

Lydia let her shoulders fall with a huge sigh. "You're right. It's not right to call it a marriage, and then keep this kind of…grudge going. So, yes, we can give it a go, I suppose."

Telki turned to Shell. "Okay, you've been awful quiet. I want verbal confirmation. How comfortable are you going to be with all of us piled together getting handsy 'n whatnot?"

"The only thing I haven't done here before is emotions," the elf shrugged. It was hard to get emotionally attached to people when that tended to get them killed.

"Sweetheart, we're about to dump you into a bedroom full of them. Are you going to be okay with that?" Telki tucked an arm under Shell's, giving her a sideways hug.

"I'll deal, just…" she hesitated, looking down. "What does everyone do after?"

"Cuddle, lots and lots and lots of cuddles and snuggles and kisses and sugary words of affection."

Chuckling a little, Shell gave her a laughing glance, "Ew."

"I know Gideon: He has given you plenty of examples by now. Now imagine including Lyds, Erandur, and Merc."

"I am perfectly happy snuggling up to you or Lydia," she said, giving the woman a wink, "but the other Boys are far too skinny."

Telki gave her an odd look. "Okay, Erandur's lean, I'll grant you, but Merc? Short if you like yours tall, but skinny?"

"Please recall that I first met him as an elf and can't really disassociate him from that image," she replied, a bit sheepishly.

Telki laughed. "Well, then, you are in for a pleasant surprise, my dear." She checked them all over one more time. "So, we're ready, and we're ready for what's to follow, yes?"

Shell shifted a bit, looking a bit hesitant again. "Do you all…sleep together? Like, actually sleep? All piled on a probably very reinforced bed like a basket of kittens?"

"Yep yep yep."

"I…might not be able to do that," she said, not able to meet their eyes as she shuddered.

"Hey, it's okay." Telki cuddled the visibly distressed Bosmer. "I'll tell you like I told Rommy: We'll take this at your pace, what you're comfortable with. Seriously, if Lyds wanted to commandeer one of the Boys, and you wanted to commandeer Gideon, I'd be okay with that, too. Merc and I or Erandur and I would enjoy a rare night just us. No worries. Okay? If you think you're ready to try it, great, if you're not, great, and if you're okay for the hankypanky but need your space to sleep, that's great too."

"I'd like to try—I can't keep tearing Gideon away from you all. But…It's been years since I was able to sleep with someone else around," she said, voice wavering a bit as she forced memories away. "Gideon…I think it's because he's so different than…I'd like to try."

"Gideon does make a fine mattress," Telki agreed.

"I'll probably keep him between me and the rest of you, so please don't be offended," Shell said, wondering if she should try to explain further before deciding she didn't even want to think about it, let alone talk about it.

"It's very hard to offend me, have you noticed?" Telki quipped, smoothing Shell's hair and letting her head rest on her shoulder. Lydia was even protectively hovering on Shell's other side. Yeah, Shell was theirs, no doubt. Telki idly wondered how long it'd take Shell to figure that out.

Feeling decidedly awkward but in a strange, sort of bubbly good way, Shell stood back and gave them an embarrassed smile. "So, shall we go see how hard we can make the Boys blush?"

"Oh yes, yes indeed." Telki had made learning Romulus' Illusion music one of her priorities, and had adapted it to many of the songs she wanted to dance for her Boys. Afterall, they couldn't properly appreciate her dance if they were having to make the music. As the traditional Reach music filled the air, Telki could feel her hips swing in the familiar pattern and set out to teach her friends. Oh yes, indeedy do, tongues would be hanging before she was through.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Telki's unsuspecting husbands were still clustered around the table, drinking Sober Mead and talking. There were a few new lights around, thanks mostly to Merc and Erandur idly making magelights and sending them floating off to land where they would.

"I still think I should take the girls to Lakeview," Mercutio mumbled into his mug. He had been a 'pretty face' as a teen. He knew the troubles there. Really, he might be doing the boy a favor. It seemed what girls he wasn't chasing, were chasing him. More than a few fistfights had occurred because some boy's girl got it in her head he was meant to be her One True Love. Maybe he could just take the new ones to Lakeview. They were Young Ones, they could help him defend the place if any more assassins came calling.

"I don't know. The whole reason Telki brought us all here was because even Rommy conceded this was the more defensible home. Would rather defeat the purpose to move them back now." Erandur swirled his drink, watching the herbs eddie in constantly shifting patterns. "By the same token, I don't want to explain to Telki why it was necessary to burn her newest fosters to cinders."

"Aye, there's that, and, what of Sura herself? She was paired with those boys. What was going on that they let her get so beat down?" Gideon huffed. "Nor do I like what else it implies. You know how Shell viewed men. What if they view each other the same way? Oh hell, what if they view the rest of ours that way?" Gideon thumped his mug down so hard, the handle cracked and his drink sloshed over the side. "I'll not have them go through that."

"I don't think so." Erandur was rubbing his chin. "Almost on sight, Talon and Shell had them pegged as a different breed of Young One. The way Sura blushed? Would she have, were they as free with their bodies as Shell?"

"Doesn't make them innocents, either." Mercutio glumly stared in the fire, his ice blue eyes almost green in the flamelight.

"But I think we can give them a chance to prove one or the other. Surely we can keep an eye on them well enough between us all for that? Talon and Shell are helping, and that's no small thing." Gideon picked his mug back up, taking a long swig, probably calming himself.

"Well, Sura passed inspection, as far as Telki was concerned. That should be some reassurance."

The first unmistakable strains of 'The Maidens' Dance" had all three heads popping up in bright attention, well before the first costumed body cleared the hallway. It was a traditional Reachmen dance, young women newly of age would open the Spring Celebration with it, announcing their adulthood to the whole world. Predictably, Telki rounded the corner first, hips swaying and feet flying. Shell, keeping perfect time because of course she was, engaged in the intricate patterns, kicks, and spins like she was born to it. Lydia joined them, just a little less so, since it was almost but not quite like a Nord dance she knew.

The Bosmer was grinning hugely, barely able to keep from laughing at the sheer exuberance of the movements. The faces at the table were just icing on the cake, but she could see why her mother liked dancing so much if they were all like this. Much more interesting than the stilted court dances they had tried to teach her. She spun around one of the support pillars, giggling slightly. She was so teaching Blossom and Pearl this when the girls got older. Possibly Orien, if he promised not to tell anyone what it was. She just hoped neither of them started singing like Telki. Melodious they were not.

Lydia had to admit she was enjoying herself. The dance was fun, almost familiar, and the heated eyes and dropped jaws, on all  _three_ faces, made her feel powerful and confident. She glanced over to her partners in crime to see what they made of that, only to see Shell's appraising eyes on her as well. That surprised her, honestly. What was more surprising, was that she liked that, too. Maybe Telki was right, maybe tonight needed to happen, had needed to happen for a while now.

Telki was absolutely delighted. Her Boys were enthralled, Lydia was obviously finally feeling her own strength and beauty, and Shell seemed to be enjoying herself to the hilt. The elf took the opportunity to show off some of her acrobatic skills to cross the room to Telki, taking the Khajiit's hand to go through some of the whirling movements. Telki hadn't had this much fun since Brighthand's coronation, dancing with someone who knew the steps as if born to them.

Pulling Telki in a snaking path through the room, Shell looped them around Lydia before grabbing her hand as well, winking up at the statuesque woman when she noticed her cheeks were a little more pink than the firelight warranted.

"Gentlemen, shall we take our ladies and adjourn for the night?" Erandur couldn't take much more, and if he knew his spouses, they were at their rope's end as well.

" A fine idea, Erandur." Gideon stood, eyeing the laughing dancers with mischief. "Shall we confuse our temptresses?"

"Oh, by all means, who grabs who?" Mercutio rubbed his hands together, and laughed aloud when Gideon whispered in his ear, passing the whisper along to Erandur who chuckled lowly.

"Good luck, then, Merc," Erandur patted his shoulder, "I don't envy you."

Telki teased them as she danced just out of reach, slipping amongst her boys like a breeze when firm warm hands finally caught her and hoisted her on a slim, firm shoulder. "Temptress! Enough with your brazen wiles! Time to tame your heathen ways!"

She laughed at Erandur. "Oh, I'm telling Maramel you stole his material."

Erandur smacked her bottom. "I expected nothing less."

Color Lydia six shades of surprised when she went from dancing to dangling. "Um, what?"

"I thought, perhaps, this might be an opportunity for you and I to have a long overdue talk." Well, the surprises kept rolling, didn't they? She was here now, might as well enjoy the view, if not the conversation. She had to admit, she probably had the best view in the house dangling over Gideon's shoulder.

Shell glanced Merc warily up and down as he approached her. "My Lady, your kidnapping to the bedroom, if you please?" He bowed low to her, and whispered. "Really, I'm just carrying you to the room, that's all."

"Oh, good," she said, putting away the dagger that had suddenly been in her hand. There was really no way to tell where it had gone, either. Merc was quite mystified on where it would even  _fit_. "I didn't want to have to explain that to Telki."

"Good, I didn't want to have my fun ended prematurely." Mercutio smoothly turned the bow into a scoop, hefting her lightly on his broad brawny shoulder. She really was a light little thing. "How is someone as toned and curvy as you this light?"

"I thought you didn't  _want_  me to stab you?" she sassed, but she was smiling a bit.

"It was a compliment! Honest!" Merc's tone turned teasing, "And you could have turned it back on me, saying all that work Talon had me doing had added muscle, but nooo."

"Why would I do that?" she asked with mock-innocence. "You are obviously able to give yourself all the accolades required."

"I could, it's nice sometimes to get an unbiased affirmation, though. So, dancing. Know any Imperial ballroom dances?"

"Mother knows them all, I think, but I…yeah, I didn't attend so many ballroom classes," she grimaced. Got slightly beaten for skipping them, really.

"You move very well. You could probably pick them up easily, if you didn't mind me teaching you for fun?" Merc offered. "Give you a chance to learn the rest of us as friends?"

"Uh…" that stumped her, it was so out of nowhere. "Why not? Just, don't tell Bryn?"

"My lips are sealed, my Lady. Here we are. Gideon, I believe you dropped this?" Merc, in a fluid move, tossed Shell lightly to Gideon, who, having deposited a very thoughtful Lydia, easily caught Shell up against his chest.

"So I did, wherever did you find this treasure?"

"She was left all alone downstairs, can you believe it?"

"Glad you were there to rescue her, then." Gideon was laughing into Shell's hair, his whole chest vibrating with it.

Shell narrowed her eyes at him, then let her head fall back to look upside-down at Lydia. "Am I going mad, or did I just get tossed like a sack of grain?"

"You were tossed, but it looked more like a bale toss than a sack toss," Lydia commented. "I got sack tossed right onto the mattress."

"Thank you for clarifying that," the Bosmer said, amused. Flipping her head back up so her hair went flying up to smack Gideon in the face, she poked his chest. "All this tossing better be made up to us."

"As my Lady wishes, I am yours to command." Gideon set her gently on the bed, and then knelt to her like a vassal.

"Well, and I thought we were being naughty." Telki was no longer on Erandur's shoulder, because how else was he going to kiss her neck? They had apparently started their warmups on the way there.

Smiling gently, Shell laced her fingers behind his neck, leaning forward as if she were simply giving him a hug. Being Shell, what she really did was nibble his ear and whisper lightly, "Make me scream."

Gideon growled and surged up on the bed with her, the poor armor little proof against randy paladin.

The door swung shut unnoticed at that point. Talon sighed heavily as he released the Telekinesis spell and leaned his head back against the door. He threw an extra muffle enchantment on it for good measure. It was going to be a very long night.


	16. We Know What We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Youngs Ones waken.
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> Illustration by the Illustrious Evil-Is-Relative. Linkies: http://fav.me/dccpnom
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The bed was wrong.

Sura went from sleeping to waking in a matter of seconds, her body still limp and pliable as it had been before she'd woken. Carefully, she kept her breathing even, trying to sort out where she was before she did so much as bat an eyelash.

Creaking, faint creaking like being inside a house, but a well-built one, not the hovel she and Demeus had taken over, waiting for Heron to meet up with them. She could hear people moving in their sleep beyond the walls, faint little sounds of bedframes as they shifted. No skittering of insects or rodents, and none of the soft susurrations of cloth or rushes moving in a draft. No soft wheezing of air passing through someone's lungs.

No one was in the room with her.

All the tension left her body in a rush, and she opened her eyes to look about. It was much too early for there to be much light, but her elven eyes gave her an advantage there. She sat up slowly, shivering as the covers slipped off, but not as much as she should have been. Pressure at her wrist made her look down, and she frowned. She didn't own any jewelry at all, let alone a slender silver bracelet so well crafted the metal looked liquid. She pulled it off to examine it better and immediately regretted it, the cold hitting her like the water of the White River had earlier that week, and she hastily put it back around her wrist.

It took her several seconds to realize her ankle barely hurt. Throwing the covers off, she examined the joint with hesitant fingers, prodding it slightly. Demeus was no healer, and the injury had been beyond her skill—they had been forced to wait on Heron to find them, Demeus cursing her the entire time because she could barely walk until they found the boot. He'd been forced to do all the work for the last few days, and none of them were used to working alone.

Carefully, expecting pain, she slid her bare feet onto the cold wood of the floor, gingerly putting more and more weight on it until she was standing. It wasn't up to full use, but she should be able to get out of wherever she was and find Demeus. With any luck, Heron had found him and they could get back to deciding what their next move would be.

Her shoes were nowhere to be found, so she pulled the cloth cover off both pillows and wrapped her feet, padding slowly to the door. It was a bit before dawn, she thought. Servants and farmworkers would just be rising, lighting fires and starting breakfast. If she was lucky, this house had no servants and she could sneak right out to the street. The hall ended and she found herself in a common room, with comfy looking chairs around a banked hearth, and a dining table on a braided rag rug. And beyond that, a door.

Voices. She frowned, listening carefully. There was an entranceway off to her left, probably to a kitchen. So, the house did have servants, or children given chores. Crouching down to keep below the level of the table, she winced, the new angle putting more weight on her ankle than it wanted. Still, it was only across a room. If she could just make it to the door, she wouldn't need to sneak down the street. If a guard caught her, she was simply lost in the entirely wrong part of the city.

That decided, Sura made her way to the table, resting her weight on the bench a moment. Her ankle throbbed, and when she put weight on it again, failed her. Sura tumbled to the floor with a dull thud, heart hammering in panic.

"What was that?" Lucia's light voice filtered through the room, two pairs of steps drawing closer.

"Lucia, let me investigate. If anything happened to you," there was an audible gulp. "I'd rather not think about the consequences." Heavy steps continued alone. "Hello, shouldn't you still be in bed? Telki will have kittens if you undid all that healing last night."

Sura looked up (and up) in surprise. Healing? Well, that explained her ankle at least. She was having trouble remembering the last few days, but…

"Hey, don't be scared. You're one of us, now. Momma won't let anyone hurt you." Lucia stepped quietly into the room, concern clear on her face. "Will you let me help you back to bed? And why do you have pillowcases on your feet?"

Struggling to sit up, Sura glanced from the rather intimidatingly large Nord to the Imperial girl. "How…how did I get here?" she demanded.

"You crashed the Palace of Kings. The Mommas and the Poppas found you. Uncle Talon helped heal you, and brought you back here to rest up. Do you want me to go get them?"

She froze, her entire body going cold despite the enchantment on the bracelet. "Talon?" Vague memory of a white-blond Altmer holding her foot surfaced in her mind, but it was as muddled with fever as everything else had been this week.

"He Healed your ankle while Momma Telki held the pain at bay. She sang for you." Lucia imbued as much awe in that as she could. "She says Uncle Talon's gonna teach us how to take care of ourselves if the bad guys try again."

"Lucia, our fire's out. Hey, she's awake? Hey guys! The new sissy's awake! Come meet her!" Blaise's enthusiasm rang off the rafters as he summoned the rest of the children to come meet the new girl.

"Why are you sitting on the floor, are you okay?" little Sofie asked, sitting next to her and patting her shoulder.

"Hi, I'm Francois, nice to meet you."

"Momma Lydia said you're a Young One, does that mean you can teach me how to fight like you?"

Sura's head whipped from one very enthusiastic little to the next, ruby eyes wide in her pale face. They reminded her of many of the children that had been in the orphanage with her, before Dessnia picked her up. Many of them had been playful like this, when they weren't grieving their parents. They'd lost that pretty quick. Instinctively, she pulled away from them, expecting the same kind of repercussions as the loud chatter had brought back then.

"Guys! Quit crowding her!" Alesan gently pulled siblings back until a small ring of curious children surrounded her. "At least let me get her in a chair!" Alesan turned to her, and extended his hand. "May I help you to a chair? Or would you rather the peace and quiet of your room?"

Sura stared at him, not knowing what to say, what to think, what to do. Her fever was gone, but nothing was making sense at all.

"Guys, what's all the hubub?" Telki stumbled out of her room, thankfully remembering to have pulled on trews and a tunic. Her hair was still rumpled to a fair thee well, but the chorus of dawn kiddies let no man rest.

"Our new sister fell down, and Alesan's helping her up!" Francois ran to her, swung up into a twirling hug, his laughter loud and merry.

"Oh she did, did she? Well, can't just leave her on the floor. Why don't you guys go get things ready for me in the kitchen while I get her settled, and y'all can be my breakfast helpers. Sound good?"

Mammoths to the waterhole were quieter, but the stampede did clear out, leaving Telki with her newest foster.

"Hey sugar, I'm guessing, since you were making for the door, you don't remember last night?" Telki gently helped her to her feet, placing her shoulder under her arm on the injured side, taking the weight off as she helped her back to bed.

"I…what?" she asked, a little desperately.

"We found you malnourished and with a broken ankle. Dessnia is not going to like what I'm going to do to her for what she's put you through. I claimed you. That means nobody is going to mistreat you, and if I find out one of those pretty boys currently snoozing in the room adjacent to yours did that to your ankle, they'll be cleaning septic tanks until they learn better."

"What?" her voice jumped an octave. Boys? Did she mean her team? They were here?

"A pretty blond Nord boy, and a darker, not quite as pretty, maybe part Redguard? They were brought in last night, so you don't have to worry about them. They're safe, they're sleeping, and when they wake up, we can all decide together what happens next. Right now, I want you off this foot, and I'ma stuff you to the gills with breakfast, and then I'll give you some quiet time to think this all through. Yes, I'm a bit much, but eh, I'm me. Hopefully, you'll get used to it." Telki deposited her charge back in her bed, gently easing her under the covers, and plumping the pillows behind her.

"I…I don't remember…how did I get here?" Sura was barely holding back tears of fear and frustration. Tears were very, very bad, but she'd never been able to either hide them or call them on command. One of the reasons she was part of a team, and not the public part.

"You fainted from the pain, so Gideon, one of my husbands, carried you." Telki pulled a chair up, so she could answer her questions, smoothing the girl's hair back from her face with a gentle hand.

" _One_  of your husbands?" she asked, certain she hadn't heard right. "Wait…" she lifted one slender, somewhat bony hand to her forehead. Something about that seemed familiar. Telki waited expectantly, but it only took a few more seconds for realization to hit and Sura to nearly jump off the bed, almost falling off the other side were there not a wall there to catch her. "You're the Dragonborn?" she yelped.

"Yep, so just let someone talk down to you or mistreat you now." Telki beamed at her, "I claimed right there in front of everyone that I was taking you in, with all the overprotective family that implies."

Big red eyes blinked at her a moment. "I think I'm still hallucinating and I'm going to lay down now," she said weakly.

"Poor dumplin. I'm told I generally have that effect. Would you rather a bacon and eggs breakfast, or some griddle cakes? I have fresh snowberries and jazbay grapes."

"I'm not all that hungry," she said. Her mind was still awash in confusion, and her stomach roiled with it. If anything, she just wanted some juice, but she wasn't in the habit of asking, whether the person was hallucination or not.

"Hmm." Telki felt her forehead, checked her eyes, and checked the poor girl's pulse. "Take a sip, it'll help settle your nerves and let you think. It might even find that missing appetite." Telki produced her bottle of Sober Mead, the one with the 'everfull' enchant on it, and tipped it to the girl's lips. Sura swallowed automatically, used to doing what she was told more often than not, and a bit of color came to her cheeks.

"Now, please rest, I'll be back with some griddlecakes and cider for you. Do you like honey?"

"Yes," she said quietly, looking down. "Thank you."

"Trust me, sweetling, it's my pleasure. So, snowberries, or jazbay grapes for you?"

"Whichever is fine," she said, flushing a bit. "Whichever you need to get rid of."

"Ah, ah, ah." Telki wagged a finger at her. "First rule of being here: you are allowed to have favorites and expect to get them. So, snowberries, or jazbay? Which one tastes better? Hmm, I may even have some fresh juniper berries."

Sura thought for a moment. Snowberries were good against cold—used in potions to resist it? Perhaps? Or was it fire? She couldn't remember: Everything was too new up here. She asked for them anyway, since she'd never had juniper before and had no idea what a jazbay even was.

"Snowberry griddlecakes with honey it is, then," Telki smiled at her gently. "It'll take me just a few minutes, but I can keep them warm if you need longer to think things through."

"You…you said there were boys here?" she asked, not wanting to out her team but fairly certain they had caught them.

"After you fell unconscious, Shell told me your team might still be out there. She, her mother, and Talon found them. They fought, since they were scared of Talon, so they're recovering from a couple thumps to the head. We can go visit them after you eat. One is a blonde Nord boy, entirely too pretty for his own good. The other's a solid, swarthy sort," Telki's nose wrinkled. "Or, before visiting them, we could see about a bath, or shower. Your choice, I have the facilities for both."

Well, that answered that question, at least. There were an awful lot of "solid, swarthy sorts" in Skyrim, but the blonde was almost certainly Heron. Sura blushed a painful red. "I don't think I could stand for long enough," she muttered, embarrassed.

Telki snorted. "Shower stools, it's a thing. We're adventurers in this household. Getting injuries is common, and I still insist on being clean."

"If it's not too much trouble," she began.

Telki wagged her finger again. "I know they beat that whole 'whatever you wish' into you, but I swear, you don't have to live like that anymore. If it takes half of forever, I will prove to you that you're allowed to assert yourself."

She couldn't hide the longing on her face at the idea of being clean. She hadn't had more than a quick scrub down since she got to this far-too-cold country, and that inadvertent dip in the river hardly counted!

"I have wildflower bathing salts." Telki tempted.

"I'd like a shower, please," she said, daring to raise her eyes to see what the Khajiit was doing.

Telki beamed as if given all the silver in Cidhna Mine. "Good! Griddlecake breakfast, soft warm shower, and then those snoozing snoodles sleeping in the next room. Good plan?"

Confusion flickered across her face. "Snoozing what?"

Telki giggled. "Snoodles. It's an old family endearment, mostly for the alliteration and silly sound of it. Feel free to call them that, and enjoy the confusion on their faces. Um, don't call any of the kids already here that, unless you like hugs." She figured she owed her the fair warning. "Okay, quiet time without a blathering Khajiit in your door starts now. Hope it helps settle at least a little for you. See you in a few." Telki closed the door gently, and went to see how badly off the kitchen was, since she sent the whole brood in there with only Haffod to supervise.

Sura fell back against the headboard, trying to sort out her racing thoughts. They'd heard the escaped Young Ones were in the capital of Skyrim, where the High King lived. The passes had been watched, so they'd taken a boat, up around the edge of Morrowind, but the captain had refused to make for Solstheim, which was needed to get to Skyrim. They'd walked along the northern coast of Morrowind and around the mountains, catching rides when they could, stealing horses and hiding in carts. They'd finally found the mouth of the White River, and had started inward. Heron looked the most like the locals—well, he was full Nord, so he should—and had gone off to find someone and ask directions. Demeus and Sura had decided to try ice fishing, only she'd fallen through a weak patch, hurting her ankle when it got trapped in the flows…or…wait…she shook her head, confused. Mostly, she remembered thinking she was going to freeze before she actually had a chance to drown, then the water just starting to boil around her, light flicking through the water like she'd been set on fire. She'd made it to shore that way, and collapsed. Demeus had found her and carried her after that, as she got sick in the cold air.

That's it. That's all she really remembered clearly. What had happened?

A gentle knock heralded the return of Telki. "Here we are, warm mulled cider, Snowberry griddlecakes slathered in honey, and a little wildflower just to make it pretty. How are you feeling?"

"Confused," she replied honestly. "I…was I sick?"

"You were pretty badly off. Had to dose you with Sober Mmead just to get you as far as a bench. Talon pretty much did the rest. I'm jealous of his healing ability."

Sura was frankly having a difficult time wrapping her head around the idea of him as anything more than an impervious monster that assigned missions and drove his students till they dropped. Trainers were not, as a rule, a friendly bunch. Being one of the few Trainers even other Trainers feared? She shuddered.

Telki marveled. She was watching a Young One, and every emotion that floated across her face was as easy to read as a book. Perhaps it was her age, perhaps it was the 'type' of Young One she was.

"You do know what Falofifi was like?" Telki folded herself into her chair. "Talon gave himself an impossible job: train the little Young Ones that came to him well enough not even Fifi would find fault. He probably saved more than any other Trainer that way, and still, that's a lot of grief and guilt to load on oneself. He's not a monster, but he did have to close himself off before the situation broke him." Telki watched as the food disappeared gratifyingly fast. "Though the real miracle in all this? My kitchen wasn't destroyed with all six of my kids in there. Amazing."

"Why would they destroy the kitchen?" Sura wanted to know, managing to eat both quickly and neatly. She was still mulling over that piece of information about Talon.

"Want to destroy, no. But know how to fix breakfast without strewing food all over? That may be beyond their competence, and the little ones want to help  _so much_." Telki let a fond smile ghost across her mouth. "It was worse before Lucia and Alesan were big enough to help monitor the littler ones."

She set her empty plate aside, contemplating this. She remembered not having discipline. It was harder for some of the others, but she had been a bit older when sent to Dessnia's orphanage. "May I bathe now?" she asked.

"Certainly," Telki sized Sura up visually. "I'll have something rounded up for you to wear once I get you settled in the shower. I think I have some tunics and leggings that should do the trick."

Telki set up the stool, showed her how to work the shower, and then let the girl marinate in peace under the warm water. Sura relaxed a bit more, then quickly scrubbed off more grime than she could rightly remember getting, unknotting her hair and borrowing a wide-toothed comb of carved bone to start working out the tangles.

"Um, wildfower, dragontongue, milk and honey, or deathbell? I have those scents for washing yourself."

"Wildflower," she said after a moment. "Please." Dragontongue made her sneeze, milk and honey sounded sticky, and wasn't deathbell poisonous?

"I personally love the smell of deathbell. Luckily, you have to eat it for it to be dangerous, still safe to make yourself smell like it. Here's the wildflower wash, good for hair and skin. Oh wow, that's a lot of hair. I see many braiding parties in your future." Telki handed her the bottle, admiring her long black hair. It looked like a midnight waterfall at the moment, streams of water glistening in the strands.

"Thank you," she said, ducking her face behind her hair and bringing it forward to hide behind. Her ribs were more prominent than usual, and her hipbones jutted out sharply, crisscrossed with the occasional scar. An old burn mark danced its way up her right leg from knee to thigh. Half healed bruises marred her skin in far too many places.

"Hmm," Telki looked at her poor thin frame, already devising snack times and a snack pouch for her poor girl. "Okay, why do the boys look so healthy, and you look half starved and beaten? Have they been mistreating you?"

She shook her head. "I was cold," she said. "All I wanted to do was sleep." It was worse than she remembered, though it had been a long while since she'd seen herself naked. Her hands shook slightly, and she found herself craving…something. She wasn't sure what it was, though.

"Hmm. Well, I'll give them the benefit of the doubt, then. Seriously, though, if they offer one mean word, or even grab you roughly, they're going to learn the honest meaning of godly toil." Telki's mouth was set in a stern line, and a deep furrow sat between her brows.

Working on a particularly dense knot, Sura queried, "Why would they do that?"

"Baby, you look like they took a stick to you, and then tried to use you for kindling." Telki crossed her arms and hugged herself tight. "Add in you look starved, while there's nary a mark on them they didn't get trying to whup Talon, and the fact they don't look starved…it's not making a reassuring picture."

The girl was quiet a long moment, thinking over this. She didn't think either of the boys would beat her—well, she knew Heron wouldn't, not without an express order to, anyway—but she couldn't know someone else hadn't. Her mind was such a blur she might have blundered right into a surly drunk, or behind an irritable horse, and she'd have no way of knowing. It frightened her a bit.

"Buuut, I found a thing for you," Telki sang, grabbing her wavering attention. "How much of your Dunmer heritage do you know?"

"Not a lot," Sura admitted, finally unsnarling the bit of hair. It was the last bit, and she used a touch of magic to help drive the water out as she wrung it. Small things, little things like making things dry faster or making Illusions was one of her strong points. Insignificant, maybe, but how much magic did it take to warp a lock or trick the eyes if you knew what you were doing? "My name is Dunmer, but I had that from my parents before the fire got them."

"Well, we have a Dunmer in the house, and Imperials, and Nords, and hmm, about the only ones we're missing are Argonians and orcs. Huh. Anyways, Lucia outgrew this three seasons ago, wanna give it a try?" Telki held up a tunic in a rich burgundy color with intricate geometric patterns in gold thread, a warm, golden wrap for the top, and a thick woven belt with more of the designs in gold and burgundy. Telki held up a Colovian style coat to go with it in a deep, almost black, purple with burgundy trim. "One, if you're like most of us, you just can't get warm enough around here, and two, it pays homage to your other heritage, too. Whatcha think? There's some nice, warm leggings in here, too."

Sura's eyes were so wide her entire large iris showed. She hadn't had too many pretty things to wear as a Young One, and she was utterly in love. "For me?" she whispered.

Telki's heart melted. "Yep, honey, and this is only the start of 'em. I got some pretties for that lovely hair, and we'll go shopping when your leg is better, so you can pick your own pretties out. Oh, just wait till those uppity biddies at Radiant get a load of you. They'll turn green with envy." Telki gently helped her into her new finery, and braided a coronet around her head, leaving the mass to fall down the back in the richest, curliest, blackest tumult she'd ever seen. At the moment, it was probably the healthiest thing about her, falling in soft, curling waves midway down her thighs.

"If you ever knot this glory up again, I might just have to take a birch switch to your backside, young lady." Telki leaned around the girl's shoulder. "By the way, that's called teasing. I wouldn't really. Honestly, sweetness, being raised a Young One, you've been put through enough."

"What does my hair have to do with anything?" she enquired, bewildered. She'd been enjoying the feel of the pretty fabric along her arms, holding them out in front of her to watch the light glint off the embroidery.

Telki's jaw dropped. "So, nobody's ever told you how gorgeous your hair is?" Sura blinked up at her blankly. She wasn't entirely sure she and the Dragonborn were speaking the same language half the time.

"Oh boy. Okay, second question, which answer I'm truly afraid of: has any boy ever told you how pretty you are?"

"Heron is pretty," she finally said, "I am a waif."

"You are now my foster baby. Not a waif, not any more. And you are just as pretty as Heron ever thought about being." Now she had a name for that one. "What's the other boy's name?"

Sura paled and whirled around, kicking herself for revealing so much. "They probably wouldn't want me telling you," she admitted. "We don't know anything about you."

"Just means I'll get to name them myself if I adopt them, then. They still have to show me they treated my baby right," Telki sniffed. Taking stock of the darling picture Sura presented, she asked, "So, ready to meet the rest of your family? I heard the other parents up and moving out there. We'll have to pass through the lot of them to get to the boys' room."

"It would probably be best if you simply let them out yourself," she said after a moment of careful thought. "If I go in there with you, they might just think I turned and this was all a trap to see who would try to escape."

"Think so? Huh." Telki chewed on that. "I'll ask Talon and Shell. They know more about how Young Ones are trained than I will ever be able to comprehend. Which is saying something, considering I wrangle mad people on my off days."

Privately, Sura thought perhaps the Khajiit wasn't all too sane herself, but she refrained from saying anything.

"I saw that look, and to be fair, the Mad God himself couldn't tell at first. Oh, yeah, that's going to be a fun talk for later, but it's also a 'see it to believe it' sort of thing." Telki escorted Sura back towards the main room, holding her arm so she had a bit easier time hobbling. She'd carefully wrapped her ankle for support, and put her in a pair of soft boots that wouldn't last outside very long, but were perfect for not putting too much strain on her balance.

The adults had finished their meal, and were sitting around the main room talking and playing with the children. Sura was so busy trying to puzzle out what that last remark had meant that she merely limped along beside the woman, only remembering when faced with the room full of them that she had to face the very energetic children crowding in on her.

"Kids and spouses, meet Sura. Sura, your new family, Divines help you." Telki watched jaws drop and eyes go wide. Poor Haffod was red from ears to neck, apparently smitten. Alesan was in danger of stepping on his bottom lip, and all her girls were cooing over the long black waves. Yep, she saw that one coming, partly why she'd decided to "foster," rather than outright "adopt" the girl.

"Hi, I'm Sofie, and I'd like to help you braid your hair at bedtime, please?" A little girl tugged at Sura's skirt.

Sura considered her for a minute, "Sure?" she shrugged a bit. Sofie squealed in glee, dancing in place. The older girl jumped slightly, then offered a shy smile.

"Sura, this is Lydia, she doesn't talk nearly as much as I do, and I trust her to keep you safe, and unburied by my brood here. I'ma go check on the boys. Okay?" Telki waited for Sura's nod before scurrying off to see how Talon fared in the night. Alesan appeared at Sura's elbow, gallantly leading her to a chair, and sitting her down just like Merc and Rommy had taught him. Three fathers facepalmed behind him.

"Hello Handsome, how was your night?"

Talon looked up from his book, a small stack of them sitting on the floor beside him. "I am considering taking a page from your sister's book and altering the muffle spell. It does nothing for vibrations through the floor."

Telki flushed under her fur, ears and tail drooping. "Oooh, sorry about that." Telki studied him. "You don't look tired at all, how do you do that?"

"I am not unaccustomed to spending the night awake," Talon reminded her, placing a hawk feather in the pages before closing the book. "As to our guests, they have been up for a while. They recognized a Young One's rune but not whose, and are trying to work out if they have been taken prisoner or taken in."

"Sura seems to think if she went in with me, they'd think she turned them in. How do you recommend introducing them to their new circumstances? Sura pretty much lets me mother hen her to death. I don't expect the boys would be so easily…put off their footing, for lack of a better analogy."

"If I have them figured correctly, Sura is their support," he said after a moment, musing over what he knew of the way Dessnia's program structured their teams. "Her well-being is not necessarily a priority for them, under normal circumstances. These two are still discussing how to help her escape, however."

"Anything to tell you how Sura got in the shape we found her in?"

Watching her carefully, taking in the angle of her ears and the way her tail lashed and paused, only to lash again, he supplied, "The younger boy's name is Heron. He was separated from the group until just yesterday. The elder's name is Demeus, and he is used to taking charge. There is tension between them. Demeus is not able to heal or use much magic at all, but Heron can. It seems Sura fell through some of the ice flows and caught fever, as well as injuring herself on the ice."

"That explains the discrepancies in their health." Telki felt herself relax a little.

"Demeus still needs a lecture," Talon said with a hint of disgust. "Sura was making too much noise while feverish, so when he ran out of health potions he killed a drug dealer and started dosing her with Sleeping Tree Sap. No wonder the poor child can't tell up from down."

" _ **HE DID WHAT?"**_  Telki slapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry about that."

Watching her placidly, Talon said, "If you are upset about the dealer, that is a standard survival training tactic."

Telki snorted. "No, dosing her with Sleeping Sap. Stupid, reckless, and they could have killed her. I took out a drug den myself."

"Also something they would have learned. Discovery could get them killed. Her life weighed against two others, and it does have healing properties."

Telki snorted again. "And her wandering merrily about under hallucinations wouldn't get them discovered?"

A hint of a smile played around his mouth. "And that is basically what Heron said."

"So, Sura's idea I go in alone, since we know what their reaction to you was? You know Young Ones; I don't." Telki leaned against the doorjamb, arms and legs crossed in a relaxed pose, tail swishing languidly.

"I recommend you do so with food," Talon said, that hint of a smile growing. "These are adolescent boys that have been smelling breakfast for some time."

"Right, enough food to feed Gideon on a hunger binge. Gotcha." Telki rolled her tunic sleeves up as they started for the kitchen, Talon relatively assured they couldn't get out of the room by now. "Care to come help? And did Lucia bring you a plate? Standard operating procedure: Everyone gets fed."

"Yes, she did. She was quite curious about why I was sitting on the floor," he said, longer legs catching up with her easily.

"Why were you on the floor? I thought you had a chair when we went to bed?" Telki got out fixings for bacon, eggs, griddlecakes, and, just because she was hankering some herself, honey nut treats.

"If they woke up and decided to take out someone on the other side of the wall, they would aim about head height in a chair, and chest height on a standing guard."

"Through these walls? They have spells that can penetrate foot thick stone? Now, I'm impressed."

"Never assume anything," he warned. "Your sister has a spell that could probably get through these walls."

Telki considered that as she rolled out the dough for honey nut treats. They would have to go in first, as the griddlecakes and bacon would cook infinitely faster. She deftly rolled the dough up and then sprinkled the nuts in place, rolling the ball thoroughly through the nuts that fell, until little of the dough could be seen. A glaze of honey was lightly brushed on, and then the treats were popped into the oven. Telki turned her attention to properly prepping the bacon for frying. "So, do I have two new boys to add to my kid collection, or do you think we were their mission?"

"I am reserving judgement for now," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

"Blast. I was hoping you might be able to tell by now. I'm pretty sure Sura's exactly what she seems, but I've not got a bead on the boys, since they were rather unconscious when I met them." Telki huffed, rubbing the sage viciously into the slabs of meat. "I hate the uncertainty, almost as much as I hate waiting."

Talon paused, looking up. A faint knocking could be heard through the floor. "They apparently decided to take the only avenue we left them."

"Care to unmuffle so they can hear me?" Telki asked him. "Or just make 'em wait 'til the griddlecakes are done?"

For a moment, his gaze focused a bit more, then he blinked, looking back down at her. "It would be wise not to speak of them from this point out," he cautioned lowly. "They have been in this city long enough to know what a family household sounds like. They will know where they are."

"M'kay, hand me that skillet there? I can fit a whole rasher on it easily. If they eat like Gideon, it'll take it." Telki finally had the bacon seasoned to her liking, and was ready to start frying. Talon handed her the pan with no fanfare. She still thanked him prettily, and then laid the bacon out, and the pan on the hot stove. Pretty soon, fresh sizzling bacon scented the air. Telki turned to Talon. "Okay, you wanna scramble eggs, or make batter?"

"Eggs," he said, rolling up his sleeves slightly. While he wasn't loath to help, Telki apparently had the batter recipe memorized, judging by the lack of cookbooks. He, however, did not.

"There's a round dozen in that crisper there, crack 'em all, and whip 'em up good. The bacon grease should be ready for them by the time you get 'em scrambled." Her hands already tossed ingredients in a mixing bowl; splash of this, dab of that, and a whole bowl of snowberries.

Talon broke the eggs into a bowl carefully. Shell walked in, took one look, backed out and told Gideon she needed to lay down. "Are you familiar with how the caravans scramble their eggs?" he asked.

"No moonsugar, ever."

"Not that," he shook his head. "They boil them."

Telki tilted her head. "I'm missing something, here. If I boil an egg, it's not scrambled. Are you talking about egg drop soup? That, I can make for you, if you like."

"They put the uncracked egg in a scarf or stocking, then spin it rapidly for a few seconds," he explained, amused. "The egg mixes inside the shell, so it boils scrambled."

Telki thought about it a minute. "Talon, I have kids. Imagine this kitchen after Blaise has been in here, slinging raw eggs around." Telki checked the griddlemix for consistency. "Plus, can't get the bacon grease or sage in the eggs that way."

"I never claimed it was better," he said, "Just inquired if you knew it." She was completely right about Blaise, though. He'd spent a total of two meals around the boy and he already knew not to give him ideas.

"Oh, it's an interesting idea, no doubt. May try that next time we're out on the road." Telki set the mix down, and plated up the bacon. "Eggs please, it's just right." He carefully poured the eggs in, making not a single splash, though he had a ward ready just in case.

"Oooh, good show, first try. You may have official helper status anytime you want." Telki quickly whisked the rapidly cooking eggs with the spatula. "First time Merc did it, it popped right in his face. Had a big blister on his nose until I healed it. Never heard a grown man whine so."

"I should hope I've learned something after two centuries," he said dryly, watching.

Telki looked up at him in surprise. "Two centuries? You don't look a day over one!" Her eyes turned thoughtful. "Hmm, there's something I've been wondering, but if it's too sensitive, I understand."

When he simply transferred his gaze to her face, waiting, she continued, "I look at Fey, and Tyr, and then I look at you, and we both know Fifi would have salivated like a rabid dog over having more like you to boss around, but, none that I know of are here, so, either they didn't make it, or they're not free yet. Either way, you have enough pain on them shoulders of yours, and I thought maybe having someone to talk with might help. Talking to Fey's a sticky subject for reasons, Shell wouldn't know what to think, and well, I'll be happy to listen if you need me to."

Talon examined her for a long moment. "No children of mine will be showing up, Telki," he assured her.

"The offer to talk remains, Talon. Whatever the subject." Telki plated the eggs with the bacon, and started pouring griddlecakes. "Because you answered a question I didn't ask, I understand you don't want to talk about it right now, but I'm here if you change your mind, as unlikely as that is."

"You are a good friend," he said after a few griddlecakes had been flipped and piled on a plate. "I sincerely hope that never gets you into anything you're unable to get out of."

"So far, so good, but I don't know how else to be." Telki looked up, "And it was high time you had a friend you could keep."

"You should take Shell and possibly Gideon to speak with the boys," he said, changing the subject. "They stared at her for a startling amount of time last night." They'd stared at Fey longer, but Shell had seemed to find that amusing. Who expected a noblewoman in fine clothing to show up in their hovel, after all?

"Gotcha." Telki plated up the last of the griddlecakes with the bacon and eggs, pouring generous amounts of honey over both piled high stacks. "Hand me that pitcher of cider, would you? And go let Shell know, please?"

He did as she asked, returning shortly with Shell, who still looked a bit like she thought Talon was actually Rommy impersonating Talon to mess with her. Telki was piling honey nut treats on a platter when they came back.

"Hey Shell, ready to meet the new boys and make their tongues loll?"

"Oh," she said, eyes lighting with realization. "Hold up," she unbuttoned a few buttons on the top of her blouse. "Now I'm ready."

"Oh goody, you can carry the pitcher, it's heavy with the tray." Telki hefted it over, and balanced the tray on both hands. "Let's go."

Shell glanced at Talon, "Did you put…?" she looked meaningfully at the floor.

"Just stomp on it if you need it," he nodded.

"Thanks," she said, hurrying after Telki.

"Knock, knock, hope you boys brought your appetite," Telki sang as she bustled through the door. "Heard you knocking earlier, but I had my hands full of breakfast. Sorry I kept you waiting." Telki eyed the room, beds unmade, but the room remained mostly intact—inspected, but put back mostly as found. Telki felt amused, and audibly tisked. "Boys, shame! The custom is to make up the bed, when a guest in another's home. So, let's make some beds, and have a nice breakfast, and decide whether to be friends, family, or not. Hmm?"

They both stared at her a moment before the pretty one—Heron—chuckled. "Well, I can see what your dossier meant by 'eccentric,'" he said, turning and straightening out his covers.

"Sugar, I give Thalmor fits just by breathing, but yes, I revel in my oddness. It makes life interesting. Thank you for making the bed, ooh, nicely turned. Think you could teach mine to do it that neatly?"

"We're not children," Demeus said, eyes narrowing at her.

"You gave Sleeping Sap to a feverish child, thinking it would keep her quiet: Next?" Telki set the tray down and folded her arms over her ample chest, raising an eyebrow at him. "Around here, you get treated like an adult when you can make adult decisions. Merc's still learning that the hard way."

Shell snickered at that, and Demeus glanced over at her. His eyes got momentarily stuck. "If I were you, I'd quit while I was behind," she advised, going over to set down the jug. "First thing you're going to have to learn is that what you were taught doesn't always work here."

Telki motioned Heron to sit, and gave him his plate and mug, ruffling his hair just because she couldn't quite help herself. He thanked her politely and with a hint of an amused glimmer in his dark brown eyes, calling her "ma'am."

"Oh, you  _are_  going to be trouble, aren't you?" Telki shook her head, amused herself. "Demeus, how's that bed coming? Your eggs are going to get cold you keep it up."

"He's waiting to see if Heron falls over dead," Shell supplied, giving her a glance.

"Yes, I slave over a hot stove to kill people. Idiot." Telki swiped a bite of bacon and egg off Demeus' plate. "Just for that, cooking tax."

He regarded her for another minute before turning to straighten his covers. He apparently hadn't moved as much the night before, because he had less to do.

"Thank you for the courtesy, Demeus. I hope you enjoy breakfast." Telki handed his plate over the moment he'd turned and sat. Despite his earlier reservations, it was obvious that he was every bit as hungry as Sura had been the night before.

"Hmm, you're not as bad off as Sura, but not by much. I see I'm going to have to make all three of you snack pouches." Telki studied them with a slightly worried frown.

"Still not children," Demeus insisted, his petulant expression saying otherwise. Shell suppressed a snicker.

"Honey, I mother hen Daedra and dragons. You will get used to it." Telki sat down comfortably. "So, Sura can't tell me much, just that she fell in the river. I found her in the courtyard of the Palace of Kings, feverish, ankle broken, and covered in wounds. What do you two want to fill in for me?"

The boys shot each other glares: Heron for what had happened, Demeus because he knew Heron was going to talk. "We had been separated for a while. Demeus had to leave to lead me back, and when we got there, Sura had gotten up and wandered off. When we went to find her, you had her," he shrugged. "So we plotted to get her back, and suddenly there were two very lovely," he bowed to Shell, "women in our tiny, drafty little place, and then a Thalmor, and suddenly we were unconscious."

Telki snorted. "Talon's as much a Thalmor as I am." She let them consider that a moment, and watched them pale. "He kept himself alive, and he saved as many of the Young Ones under his charge as he could by making them meet the impossible demands of a madman holding their soul gems. You get over that, and you get over it right now. He helped me end Falofifi, he's basically an adopted uncle to this family, and if you want the honor of calling yourself one of the Dragonborn's children, you will get over it now." She sat back, crossed her legs, and waited to see what they made of that.

"I'm  _not_  a  _child_!" Demeus muttered.

Shell sat on the table and gave him a disapproving look, "Tone," she chastised, and his ruddy complexion got a bit ruddier. His eyes lowered to his bacon hastily.

Telki sat regarding Demeus for a long while. "I don't think you're understanding the opportunity I'm presenting you. Tell me, in your words, what I'm offering you."

Demeus shook his head. "I don't want a mother. I had one once, and I don't need another one. I can take care of myself."

Telki looked at him sadly. "Do you really believe I'd want or try to replace someone you love? No, that's not what I'm offering you. I'm offering you allies and safe harbor. People that care about you and support you because they want and like you. Power to tell the Thalmor to shove off and make it stick. We took down Falofifi. Did any of you think that was possible? Yet he's gone, Talon, Shell, and the rest of those Young Ones are free. That is what I'm offering you, and nobody, but NOBODY, dares look down on anyone I claim as my own. Odahviing would happily eat them."

"I don't want your protection," the boy said, looking away.

Heron had finished his food and propped his chin on his hand, regarding the Redguard. "Well, shit," he said lightly, "You really are planning to kill her."

"Shut up."

Telki tilted her head. "You want Dessnia dead? Join the club, but, I think you'd have a better chance if you had allies. Go in by yourself, you risk losing your life and her still doing what she's been doing."

"Oh, not Dessnia," Heron stated, still with that nonchalant attitude as he kept his eyes on the older boy, who was glaring at him so hard he should be having heart failure. "His mother."

_That_  got Telki's attention. "Who is she, and why does she need to die?"

"I'd tell you, but I'm trying to be respectful and all, and your furniture wouldn't be improved with repeated bashings of my head," Heron shrugged. Demeus's expression darkened even more. "Unless he managed to imprint my face in it. Maybe then."

"Heron, I like you, so I'm going to warn you. One of my husbands  _is_  a pretty boy. I have daughters, thou shalt not be playing with them. Understood?"

The grin he gave her was full of mischief. "Yes, ma'am." Telki could only shake her head. They were in for fun with that one. Well, he'd learn. She turned her attention to the problematic one.

"Demeus, are you really set on a suicide mission?"

His eyebrows rose. "What suicide mission?" he asked, apparently a little more willing to talk now that it was apparent that his teammate would blabber everything anyway. "Go to Hammerfell, find the harlot, and kill her. Where's the part with me dying?"

Telki tapped her teeth in thought. "Yeah, okay, we need to clear some things up here. Firstly, you do know the Thalmor stole more than half their Young Ones from unsuspecting parents, sometimes razing an entire village to get one child, yes?"

Demeus's ice blue eyes looked very startling in his hazelnut face, seeming almost to glow as he glared at her. "I was standing right there when she sold me, and I was ten. I could more than comprehend what was happening."

Shell glanced at Telki, "The Thalmor aren't the only crappy people in the world."

"Which is why I'm not assuming, but tell me Thalmor aren't above lying or deception. So, let's look at what I know for myself. You had two people helping you, two you were responsible for, and you  _still_ nearly lost one, and you've lost enough weight to make up a toddler just getting here. Tell me again I don't have reason for concern?"

"Don't worry about me," the boy insisted.

"Too late, I've met you. Nope, you can't make me not worry. Now, either you can work with me, or I can drive you nuts interfering anyways. Which way you want to play this?"

The Redguard glanced from face to face before turning to Heron. "I got you two up here. That was the plan. Now you take Sura, do the impossible, and I'm going to Hammerfell."

"Good riddance," the Nord muttered, watching his teammate stand up.

" _ **SIT DOWN, DEMEUS,"**_  Telki thundered, getting irritated with the young man's attitude. Both boys stared at her with wide eyes as the house shook slightly. The Redguard sat abruptly. "Now that I have your attention, are we done with the angsty young man posturing?" She wasn't sure yet if it was sulky teen angst, or if Dessnia had messed him up beyond fixing, but darn it if she wouldn't try.

"Oh, good," Shell muttered, toying idly with one of her needles, clearly having been annoyed enough to contemplate threatening them with it, if not outright using it. "That was getting old, fast."

"So, two items of interest. You and Sura want to 'do the impossible,' and Demeus here wants to shank dear old scuzzy mum. Do I have that right so far?"

Heron shook his head. "Not impossible, just unlikely," he said.

"Well, what's your unlikely that you want to accomplish?"

He looked from her to Shell and back again, asking "You have all the prisoners from Lord Faloniril's pits, right? I'm from there. Well, my parents were. Both of them were Nords, and I want to find them."

Telki was tapping her teeth again. "We got everyone that survived. But many of them have spread out since then, gone back to their lives or off to make new ones. If you had names, it'd make it easier. Otherwise, I may need Rommy to cast the kinfinder spell."

"Didn't he teach Merc how to do it that last time?" Shell asked.

"Probably, Merc might have picked it up anyways. I was thinking more about range issues, if his parents went haring off into the wilds or moved shop to another province entirely. Sura's in the same boat?" Telki asked the young man.

"Nah, Sura was recruited from an orphanage. She's coming with me and not Dem because I actually  _like_ having her around and I'm not a self-righteous sea sponge." This last was said with another glare at the glowering Demeus, who really looked as if breaking the furniture over Heron's head was sounding better and better.

"Oh, sass, you'll fit right in. Well, glad to know I can keep her here, then. If we don't find your folks, you're welcome, too, Heron."

"No thank you. If you're my mother I can't flirt with you," he was laughing a little as he gave her a wink.

"Four husbands, shug, don't even bother," Telki tsked. "Okay mister Grumpypants, other than making your displeasure known all to sundry, and possibly putting a bounty on your head, why do you want to kill scuzzy old mom? Have you even thought about what you'd do after you kill her successfully?"

"Find out what she did with my brother and sisters and go from there," he said, utterly defeated on the silence front.

Telki facepalmed, with both hands, groaning. "So, let me see if I understand correctly. You expect to make it to Hammerfell all alone, find this person, kill her, and  _then_  find your missing siblings? Using what? Oh look, we have people right here with kinfinding spells, and at least one person able to cast it wide enough to include all of Tamriel. Will you find someone able and willing to help you in Hammerfell?"

"I don't need any help," Demeus muttered again.

"See, this is why you weren't the tactician," Heron reached over and rapped his knuckles lightly over Demeus' head as if to imply nobody was home.

Shell stomped when Demeus went to punch him, activating the paralysis glyph Talon had set up. "Honestly, you two, how did you get anything  _done?"_  she cried, wide-eyed.

"Give me five days." Telki eyed the Redguard boy. "Five days, and I will have the location of any and all your siblings in Tamriel. Give me a month, and I'll have them here for you, or at least, if they have loving homes, their addresses so you can visit. Could you accomplish the same on your own?"

Shell had bodily moved their paralyzed forms apart before releasing the spell. Because they had both been sitting, they both tumbled to the floor. "Well?" she prodded.

Demeus sighed petulantly, "I can give you five days."

"Thank you. So, would you two care for a shower or bath? I can have Alesan and Blaise drop off clean clothing. They won't be perfect fits, but they should be clean and comfy."

"And in exchange?" Demeus asked suspiciously.

Telki rolled her eyes. "One of those, huh? Mostly, I'm tired of smelling your fishy carcass. You read my dossier," she paused and asked curiously, "Hey Shell, what  _does_  my dossier say about me?"

"Appearance, approximate age, irritating Voice magic, tendency to kill Thalmor officers just going about their duty, and tendency to muck up plans and ruin parties. Oh, and that you're a bleeding heart with three husbands," she watched the boys out of the corner of her eyes as she said that. Heron was nodding; Demeus was scowling.

"'Bleeding heart with three husbands.' Does that sound like I'd expect something back just for getting you clean and clothed?" Telki teased. Demeus glowered at her. Heron was laughing, holding his hand over his mouth but definitely sporting a heartthrob grin behind it.

Shell put her hands on her hips, arching an eyebrow at Demeus. "Look at it this way: You go bathe with good reason or not, or I will hold you under and scrub you."

Demeus stared at her and turned beat red. Heron fell over laughing.

"Don't give Heron ideas, Shell. We actually want him to stay, not get a complex because a Treenord frowned at him."

"That's fine, Miss Telki," Heron laughed. "We had a Trainer like her, once. Demeus probably knows quite well that if she scrubs his hide—"

"I won't have any hide left," the Redguard finished with a shiver.

"Good guess," Shell said sweetly, her smile a wicked one Gideon had learned to be wary of back in Alinor.

Telki could only shake her head, glad for the lightening mood."Shell, you want to show them to the bathing room? I still have to sort through Merc's castoffs to find something that'll suit them. It's Merc, so they're not really ready to be 'cast-offs,'" she reassured the boys. "I wonder if that made it into his dossier, by chance?"

"Imperial," Heron said, standing and dusting himself off. "We could guess."

"Huh, that does say it all, don't it?" Telki mused. "Okay, baths and clothing. Sound good? Oh, and it wouldn't hurt if you two reassured Sura, she's been a bit worried."

The Nord perked up. "She's here? You took us to the same house?"

"Couldn't you tell by the view from the window?" Demeus snapped.

"I have a difficult time orienting myself in a city I've never been to, nor seen in daylight, or studied a map of," Heron replied with a sort of steely cheerfulness.

Shell gave Telki a long-suffering look. "These two are really going to get on my nerves, aren't they?"

"I've made it clear that I'll leave," Demeus told her, then flushed again at her censoring look.

"I've made it clear I will run you mad if you do. Did my dossier say anything about not following through?" Telki prodded the young man on out the door. "Time to clean up and see if we can't wash out that grumpus attitude. So glad that's not a Redguard thing. Alesan's never been this much trouble." Telki perked up as a wicked idea occurred, "Hey Shell, shall we see if Talon's free to oversee bathtime?"

"I pledge to be good and scrub this ruffian myself if you just keep that man away from us," Heron said, holding up his hands in surrender, honest alarm on his face. "Do you know how many bruises I should have today?"

"Demeus?" Telki asked.

He sighed heavily. "I do smell like the White River still," he grudgingly admitted.

"Oh good. You'll find a variety of soaps in the cupboard, you may use any that tickles your fancy, though the Boys tend to go for the spruce and juniper stuff." Telki eyed them merrily.

Heron bowed his thanks, only a bit ironically. Demeus muttered it. Shell cleared her throat and he said it a bit louder. Giving Telki a look that clearly asked if the woman knew what she was about to put up with, she led the pair outside, to get to the washroom the long way, because if she passed Talon in the house she was very tempted to sic him on them anyway.


	17. We Know Not What We May Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys try on Mercutio's 'ruined' clothes, Talon has limits, and Murril is dubious of the New Cook's skills.
> 
>  
> 
> Screenshot from my game.   
> and for once, unaltered? What is this Madness?

Telki headed up the stairs to rifle through the chest she kept of the clothes Mercutio declared 'ruined' but in reality, needed only minor repairs, if that, to find something suitable for her new guests. Sometimes she found herself with enough quiet time to fix them, but normally she simply forgot them after the sheer amount of work the children's clothing needed that was simply beyond their skills. Shaking each piece out of its wrapping, Telki pondered what she had seen of them, trying to guess what would fit them best. Despite referring to them as such, Demeus was right in saying that they weren't children, unless they were a bit younger than they looked. If they were past sixteen, they were legally adults and could go off on their own, though many children simply stayed with their parents until finding a spouse or apprenticing out to a master.

After a few minutes of searching, she put together some outfits she thought would do them nicely. There was a particolored blue that brought out Mercutio's lovely eyes and would do no less for Grumpypants', with a warm undershirt that might even help the problem if the cold was contributing to the crabby. The other was a bronze and green brocaded tunic that would make Heron shine, not that he needed much help in that department. Trews to match weren't a problem, but shoes might be. Telki hunted around until she found a pair for each; low, furlined boots that looked about right. If they were a bit big, a second pair of socks wouldn't be remiss in Windhelm's frosty spring. They would do them until she could get them fitted at Alfar's cobbler shop.

Telki bounded back into the main room to pass off the clothes for delivery, and check on Sura. She found the children gathered around a game of Tafl. Runa, as usual, was running the board. Lydia and the husbands were quietly talking while making sure the kids behaved themselves. It tickled Telki that Lydia was still slightly bemused by last night. She and Gideon were sitting right next to each other with none of the former awkwardness evident, though they did look rather preoccupied. More interesting was Talon watching the children play from a comfortable distance for Sura. That was a surprise.

The elf glanced up at the motion of her entrance and gave her an inquiring look. Abandoning the game for the moment, he walked over. "I take it they're staying for the time being?"

"I've promised to have kinfinding spells for them. Heron wants to find his family, they were among Fifi's prisoners. Demeus wants to kill his scuzzbucket mother in Hammerfell, and find any siblings he may have, probably to rescue them from whatever dire fate she left them to, since she sold him when he was ten." Telki tilted her head at Talon, "I don't suppose you know the kinfinder, or can help Merc cast one to encompass all of Tamriel?"

"That would take more power than either of us have, even together," he shook his head. "The best we could give is a direction."

"Yeah, no, I'm not turning that hothead loose on his own. I don't suppose you could share some of your unflappable calm with him?" Telki huffed. "So, I have to hope Rommy comes back from himself in the next five days. Joy."

Talon thought a moment. "You might speak with Tyr about the first boy. He is still in touch with many of the former prisoners still in the city, and through them, the ones outside it. It may be that the couples that had children taken from them will want to know if he is theirs."

"Heron's not the problem, he's quite content to stick around until they're found. Hothead's the one with a time limit, or he'll happily traipse off to see to it himself."

"So he is unaware that you are likely to hit him over the head and sit on him?" Talon asked, giving her a mild glance. "However did he reach this age?"

Telki gave Talon her brightest eyed, most hopeful smile. "What do I need to do, to bring that out of you more often? I want to make it a habit."

"I have a bit of a reputation for being scathing of stupidity," he reminded her. "You've seen this yourself. I am not without a sense of humor, despite what others believe."

"Hence why I said, 'what do I need to do to bring that out more' not 'oh my Divines, Talon has a sense of humor.'" Telki sniffed, "And yes, I will sit on him, or get Odah to. Six of one, half a dragon of another."

Smiling slightly, he suggested, "Why don't you go give them their new clothes before they die of embarrassment?"

"Sure, sure, want to join me?" Telki grinned up at him. "I have no idea why, but they're 'plum skeart' of you."

Talon sighed slightly. "Telki, do you know all the duties of Trainers?" he asked.

"You know I only know what I saw at Fifi's, and what y'all've shared with me. They're not Young Ones anymore, they're free, and so are you. Isn't getting through that habitual behavior part of claiming your freedom?" Telki made a grabby hand at him, the clothes all jumbled in one tight grip, so she could take his hand, if he'd give it. "You know me, never happy with status quo, I want to make it better!"

"Trainers decide who dies," he said, regarding her hand with a hint of confusion.

"You know I watched you, right? You did your damnedest to save as many as possible, despite the Thalmors' insane standards, and if I could see that, how come nobody else can?"

"You have a great deal of Sight," he reminded her. "And they only know me by reputation."

"If I let you off the hook this time, will you agree to meet with them sometime later, so you can all get over this? Yes, I am aware it will be a process, but never started, never done, and none of you need that bull on your shoulders." Which got Telki thinking about another overdue conundrum that needed fixing, but she had quite a bit on her plate between getting Tyr on the throne, the assassins off her back, and a wedding to a Mad God, and oh yes, hey family, want to meet the husbands? Yes, more than one, why do you ask? Really, she needed a planner at this point.

Talon was studying her face carefully. "Do I even want to ask what is going through your head?"

"About seventeen different things, and all of them needed doing yesterday," Telki promptly replied. "Now, take my hand, and walk with me. You don't have to go in or anything, but the company would be nice getting there. 'Kay?"

"You require your hand held for this?" he lifted an eyebrow at her.

"I'm a very tactile person, case you haven't noticed, and you're a friend behind about two hundred years worth of hugs. I think you can stand a little hand holding?"

Taking a breath, he took her hand. "If anyone asks, you get to explain."

"Naturally." Telki smiled like she'd won Queen of the Universe, and happily walked(skipped) down the hall to the bathing room while Talon marveled slightly at how easy it was to make her happy sometimes. It was quiet, which Telki found quite hopeful. "Thank you, Talon. I appreciate you allowing me your company and your hand."

Shell glanced over from where she was sitting inside, idly tossing an ice spell back and forth. Her gaze fell on their hands and confused shock made her freeze. "Uh…"

"Not what you're thinking," Talon assured her.

"Nope, Talon's just being a gentleman and allowing a crazy Khajiit her eccentricities. You think you got a hug deficit, oh honey." Telki shook her head. She called loudly at the shower stalls."Heron, Demeus, are y'all about ready to put on some clothes?"

"Is she still going to be staring? I don't want her staring when the cold hits me," Heron called back. Shell smirked.

"Sure, I'll just ask Talon to step inside," Telki teased. There was a yelp, then Talon muttering under his breath about Dessnia's lack of emotional discipline.

"Towels, sugar, they're big enough to cover Gideon's butt, I'm sure they'll cover you and your dignity." Telki threw large fluffy almost blankets over the stall door for Heron and Demeus each. "Seriously, how did you miss these?"

"I may have been threatening them with ice spells if they didn't hurry up and shut up," Shell smiled, only slightly apologetically.

"Eh, the way they were grousing—okay, the way Grumpypants was grousing—I don't really blame you, shug," Telki tsked. She walked over to a shelf, looking to see if there were combs or brushes. Luckily there was one comb left: For some reason, they kept walking off with half asleep bathers. A rather mischievous grin lit on her face. "First one done gets the comb first."

"Done," Heron's face popped over the edge of the stall.

"Are you sure one parent wasn't an Imp?" Telki teased. "Only people I've seen respond that fast are Merc and Rommy."

"I've read a dossier on a Mercutio married to you, but Rommy is new to me," he confessed, holding out his hand hopefully. His short blond curls would brush out much faster than Demeus's mop anyway.

Telki handed the comb over. "We'll get you guys settled a bit before we discuss Romulus in any detail. It may require mead, actually."

"Fine with me," he grinned, running the comb through his hair.

"He has no idea Sober Mead is a thing, does he?" Shell whispered to Talon.

"Okay, oh dear, yeah, we're in trouble." Telki inspected the young man. He'd tucked the towel about his waist, showing off a chest and shoulders that looked like they belonged on a Cyrodiilic statue somewhere. Currently, he was shaking out the clothing she'd brought with interest. "The green and bronze for you, blue for Grumpy."

"Can you all  _not_ be here for this?" Demeus called out.

"Here, mister modesty." Telki grinned, flipping the tunic and pants to hang over the stall door. "Should be room to dress in there without banging your elbows to bits."

"Uh…" he coughed, "Thank you."

"He can be taught," Heron said, somehow already mostly dressed. He was eyeing Shell and Talon. "So you're the infamous Talon. I would have thought the Trainers would stay in Alinor."

Talon regarded him levelly. "Just because we had it better does not mean our lives were our own."

Telki tilted her head. "Heron, were you under the misconception that Talon  _chose_  to be a Young One? Did they give  _you_  a choice in the matter? Dang it, and here I was hoping you were the smart one."

"When we're younger, they tote it about that we can grow up and be Trainers if we're successful enough," Shell explained. "They glorify it. You get a Name, a place in the Household, some even dangle the idea that you might get adopted into the Household. From the outside, it looks like they have it much better."

"Oh, that's diabolical. Yeah, stomping the rest of the Thalmor into goo and rescuing the rest of the Young Ones is definitely on the to-do list. Also, raiding the Soul Cairn, if we can ever find the rest of those Aedra-forsaken foci."

"Not all want to be rescued," Heron put in, watching this with interest. "I mean, the Soul Cairn connections are disheartening, but even on Faloniril's estate, there were those that stayed deliberately and just went off to other lords afterwards. Some want to go, some want to stay."

"And I mean to make sure they know they have a real honest-to-Divines  _choice."_ Telki blew out an exasperated breath. "Seriously, obviously I'm not going to twist their arm if they're happy there. Chances are, they'll wind up jelly between Odah's toes if they try to fight, but, they'll at least have the option."

"Ew," Shell said, wrinkling her nose.

"What was it Rom said? Banana elf pudding?" Telki's eyes danced with mischief.

Talon merely shook his head. Shell giggled. Heron looked vaguely puzzled, and Demeus glowered as he came out from the back.

"Nice of you to join us, Grumpy! Here, try these on. I can get extra socks if they're too loose, we may have to raid Giddy's closet, though, if they pinch. Hope they work until we can visit the cobbler tomorrow. Alfar should be able to manage something."

Demeus took the shoes doubtfully and pulled them on. From the look on his face, they did, indeed, pinch. Heron looked perfectly comfortable.

"Right, Demeus, if you would kindly follow me, we'll be checking Giddy's footwear collection. Man has something for everything. Surely one pair will do for a day." Telki beckoned him to follow her. "Thanks again for coming with me, Talon. I appreciate it."

He nodded. Telki nodded back, then swished past him, pulling Grumpy along behind her. Heron watched this with amusement, then regarded them. He was still somewhat wary of Talon, but the man didn't seem like he was planning to cull anyone any time soon, so he supposed if he could put up with Demeus, Talon would be an absolute relief. "So…can I see Sura now?"

**.**

* * *

 

**.**

Sura was still losing at board games, and so far the children hadn't mobbed her too much. Sofie had already braided and unbraided her hair twice, and Blaise had pouted when she hesitantly offered that she wasn't much good at fighting, but one and all were entertained at the interesting way the older boys were acting. The adults watched this for a while, just letting their newest foster find her bearings with the other children.

"So, who's digging the moat, and who's getting the bears for the yard?" Mercutio rubbed his face: Of course she'd be pretty. Not just pretty, but jaw droppingly beautiful, and they were in the capital city, where every restless young buck in the province wound up to join the Stormcloaks.

"I could set up some aversion runes on the gates," Erandur sounded dubious. "Not sure how much help that'd be otherwise, though."

"Maybe the Dawnguard wouldn't mind loaning us a few armored trolls…" Gideon's words were stopped when both Alesan and Haffod tried to offer Sura a drink at the same time. Some of the cider spilled, as could only be expected when dazed young men were involved. Luckily, Sura was a Young One, and was quick enough to pull her legs out of the way before her new clothes were stained.

"Boys! You will both apologize for your clumsiness, and you will both clean the mess," Gideon called the hammer and let it thump once against his palm. The teenaged posturing was starting to get out of hand, and he meant to stop it before it got too heated. "Do I need to explain myself further?"

"No, Poppa. Sorry Poppa." Alesan hurried to the kitchen for cleaning supplies, unused to his father turning the Scary Face on him. One stuttered apology later, Haffod was right on his heels.

"Laying down the hammer today,  _mellani?"_  Shell teased, appearing in her usual fashion leaning against the back of the chair.

"May I join you the next trip to the Rift? I need to see a Nord about some trolls." Gideon smiled down at her, setting the hammer down and draping an arm across her shoulders.

Solemn green eyes gazed up at him, "Please sit down,  _mellani."_

Gideon's brows furrowed in concern, quietly sitting back in his chair. "Alright? What is it?"

"I can't sit on you when you're standing," she said, hopping into his lap, all cheer again.

Gideon threw his head back in laughter. "No, but I could have picked you up, if you liked." Warm hands smoothed familiar circles on her back, cuddling her close.

"Also," she added, tracing a fingertip across his chest, "I might need to paralyze you or otherwise immobilize you in a moment."

"Because?"

"Sura!"

The girl's head jerked up like someone had pulled a string, and a wide grin lit up her face. "Heron! You made it!"

The boy fairly ignored everyone else a moment as he went and picked up his teammate in a tight hug. "Look at you! You're in a dress! And not a cast! When did your hair get this long?" he asked that last bit in honest bewilderment, brushing some of the long strands off his clothing where they had attached like he'd been rubbed amber.

"Oh, I'm still supposed to stay off the ankle," she said ruefully, earning herself getting picked right back up and deposited in her chair. "I'm not an invalid!"

"Oh yes you are, until that ankle heals anyway," Lucia interjected, obviously repeating something she'd heard many a time.

Erandur, the first to break out of the dismayed staring, thumped Gideon's shoulder, "That sounds like something you've heard before."

"A time or two," Gideon admitted.

Heron took Alesan's vacated seat and gave Lucia an approving, mischievous grin. "You heard the little healer, Sura."

"Oh, wow. You're pretty," Lucia blushed to the roots of her hair, quickly slapping both hands over her mouth in embarrassment.

Heron only laughed. "Thank you. You're fairly pretty yourself, but especially when you're pink."

"Ahem," Mercutio gave him a wry eyebrow. "Tone it down, or I'll let Gideon set your chores for a week." Gideon, not above being used as the muscley threat, folded his arms across his chest to their full effect. He looked like he wrestled cave bears for fun and won.

Glancing around, Heron's grin didn't dim a whit. "Oh, wow. Look at all the pretty people. It's like being back in Alinor, only less elves. Well," he winked at Murril, "There are a few pretty elves."

Murril turned orange, eyes wide as she hid behind Blaise, peeking back out bashfully.

Erandur thumped the back of his head with a tiny shockbolt. "Down boy. Telki wants to keep you, so mind your manners."

"Heron has parents," Sura piped up shyly, glancing around. She wasn't used to people not liking it when Heron was charming.

"He does? Does he know their names?" Mercutio's brows rose in curiosity. "We don't mind helping find them, but he'll still have to behave here in the meantime."

"And teasing the girls is definitely not behaving," Erandur said sternly. "People's feelings are not playthings."

"I said 'people,' not 'girls,'" Heron pointed out. "And I wasn't being dishonest." Turning to Merc, he tilted his head a bit, examining him. Sensing flirting would not help him here, he simply said, "I don't know their names. My mother was taken out of the pits when it was discovered she was pregnant. I'm told this happened a lot."

"Not as often as you might think," Talon said, watching all this from the post he'd chosen to lean against. "Every so often Faloniril would order the contraceptives to be kept out of the food supply, so the women in the pits wouldn't know they were unprotected. He'd have them pulled out, fed and treated better until they gave birth, let them have their children for about a month before throwing them back in the prison and selling or trading the babes to the other lords that kept Young Ones. This happened about four times since the Great War."

Heron blinked. "Faloniril really was a shit, wasn't he?" Sura paled and smacked his side.

"Which is why he'll be rotting in a cage in the Shivering Isles for the rest of forever. I give you, Mister Grumpypants, also known as Demeus." Telki presented him as if showing off a great work. Demeus looked like he wanted to be elsewhere.

A bucket thumped and sloshed. Turning, Telki found Alesan standing next to the bucket, looking as if he were about to be sick. Haffod, right behind him, didn't look much better.

"Alesan, honey, what's the matter?"

"I need to clean the cider up. Grumpypants is standing in it," Alesan muttered, pointing with an old rag to where cider puddled under Demeus' feet.

"That's not my name!" Demeus snapped, but did step out of the puddle.

"Then earn a new nick, Demeus. A little less snap and snarl, and you'll be free of Grumpypants, never to be heard again. Warning, around here, there's a surfeit of names, depending on mood, behavior, and affection levels," Telki informed him, patting Alesan's shoulder as he moved to clean up his mess, Haffod lugging the bucket behind him.

Shell was examining this with a single eyebrow eloquently raised. "So, Sura, how long have you three been on a team? At Faloniril's we only got teamed up to apprentice. You stay your whole lives together, right?"

Sura nodded. "Heron and I have been on the same team since we were small. We were the support members, until his looks developed and they placed him in a different role. When you all escaped, they shuffled the teams," she looked distressed. "They broke us all up to make sure we didn't all decide to run away. That's when we ended up with Demeus and several of the others."

"And then we all decided to run off anyway," Heron shrugged, and Demeus grimaced, nodding.

"Is the rest of your team safe? Do I need to find them?" Telki worried, tailtip twitching in agitation. The telling silence as all three of them looked away was all the answer she got.

"Oh Void take it. Assassins or no assassins, when Rommy gets back we need to redouble the Soul Cairn raids," Telki growled.

"You can cut that link, right?" Demeus asked nervously. "I wouldn't even have stopped here if they hadn't told me you could do that, so you can do that, right?" it was the youngest he'd sounded yet, and his blue eyes were full of uncertainty as they gazed at her.

"I can neutralize it, but it'll take Romulus to actually break the connection for good," Erandur offered. "It's a little something Mara left with me, after our first trip to the Cairn."

"And Rommy should be back in a few days." Telki thought a moment, "He's also the one with the best chance of finding your siblings, since he can cast kinfinder across all of Tamriel. Would you be willing to wait that long?"

"Might as well, Dem," Heron said, gazing at the other boy as he struggled with this news, "What's another day or two to save you a few weeks or even years of searching?"

"You'd still be Soul Trapped if you left now," Sura reminded him softly.

Demeus finally groaned and sank onto the stairs, nodding his head even as he pressed his palms against his eyes. "Fine. I'll wait for the Aedra-forsaken mage."

Francois padded over to him, and patted his leg reassuringly. "It'll be okay, she's helping me find my parents, too."

"For your sake, kid, hopefully we're not as alike as you think," Demeus muttered.

Francois tilted his head, little brow pursed in confusion. "You're a boy, and Momma Telki's helping you. What else is there?"

A bit alarmed at what might come out of Demeus's mouth, Shell called, "Frankie, Heron's looking for his parents, too! You're in good company."

"Wow, Momma Telki's sure gonna be busy." Francois nodded his head as if making a big decision. "Yeah, she needs to slow down. She needs to find our parents before she takes on any more."

Shell whirled her face into Gideon's chest before she squealed out loud. "He's so cute!" The words were muffled but unmistakable.

Gideon felt his eyebrows rise, a funny smile quirking the corner. "Is he giving you ideas?"

"He's making my brain fill with fluff. How am I supposed to have ideas with a fluff-filled brainpan?" she complained, kissing his chest before laying her head against it.

"You could use a little more fluff in your life," Gideon murmured against her eartip, kissing it lightly before stroking the back of her head, and squeezing her close.

She shivered pleasantly and relaxed, then realized what he was thinking and sat up. "Um…remember that whole thing with me not ready to be a mother? I just started a spy ring? All that? I hope you aren't expecting me to go right into wanting my own, because quite frankly, I think we have our hands full already."

Gideon gave her a laughing smile. "Is it wrong of me to be reassured they're at least a possibility at some point?"

Shell glanced at him, then pointedly around the room, then back at him again. "You're greedy," she announced. His chest rumbled in laughter.

"And you like me that way."

"Depends on what you're doing," she teased, leaning forward to lay against him, resting her head on her arms to gaze up into his eyes.

"What's wrong with bein' greedy, anyways?" Blaise popped up next to Gideon's elbow, mouth full of honey nut treat. Shell had been focusing elsewhere, and jumped straight up in Gideon's arms like a startled cat before plopping right back down, eyes wide.

"No, no, I rather liked you there," Gideon pulled her back up. "Yep, definitely a good look for you, right here. Let's try it out for a while." She pouted and smacked his shoulder lightly.

"Blaise," Talon said, practically materializing behind the boy.

"A _AAAH!"_  Honey nut bits sprayed the air as Blaise jumped straight up in a fair imitation of Shell's own startle response.

"Aren't you supposed to be eating those at the table?" Talon asked mildly, as if the boy hadn't just gotten his first brush with grey hair.

"Uh…yeah?" Blaise shrank in on himself, clearly caught out. "And I'll go back there right now." Blaise scampered away to the table. He needed a new honey nut treat, anyway.

Blushing, Shell couldn't quite meet the Weapons Master's eyes as she grumbled, "Don't say a word."

"I was merely going to suggest that Fey and Tyr had a keen interest in this, especially since Telki took the first opportunity presented to usurp their task of finding homes for the incoming Young Ones." They had known it would happen, of course. That was partially why they had taken it on, as well as Tyr working to help the prisoner's reclaim their lives. They'd all discussed it, and come to the conclusion that if Telki was to be prevented from needing a home the size of the palace, they'd better give her as little opportunity to adopt as possible. "Saving her from herself," was how Galmar had put it.

"Heeey," Telki pouted. "I was gonna take Heron to Tyr and them to help. I'm not  _that_  bad."

"Oh, good," Talon replied urbanely. "Ulfric will be so glad to see everyone after morning court." Shell was giving him an odd look, and he made a little handsign to her. Understanding bloomed, and she nodded.

A familiar knock pattered against the front door, sending a stampede of eager hands to open it. Alesan's longer reach allowed him to be the first to open the door, allowing a flurry of colorful robes and Khajiit to spill in the doorway, happily dispensing hugs to the kids. "Are you guys gonna hibernate in there all day or come over to the palace? We've got things to do, people to be, and pells to burn!"

Heron perked right up, glancing from Telki to Nala, "Is she going to hug all of us?" he inquired with interest. Demeus scooted back a little on his stair.

"I dunno," Nala sized him up and down. "How likely are you to behave yourself if I do?"

"That depends entirely on if the Dunmer intends to use shock magic on me again," he confessed cheerfully.

"I have a spell prepped and ready," Erandur warned smugly.

"I'll be the soul of chivalry," Heron assured them with a laugh.

"Oh good, because you look like you'd give a proper hug. Fending off hands is not my favorite pastime." Nala extended an arm to add him to the munchkins already around her in a massive hug pile.

"Still practicing," he confessed, giving a fairly good hug for all that. "Sura lets me practice with her, right Sura?" he asked, glancing over at Alesan and Haffod, both of whom glowered at him. He could already tell they would be a great cure for boredom until this "Rommy" showed up.

Sura, oblivious, shrugged. "I'm not too good at them," she said. "I feel awkward."

"Is that a challenge I hear?" Telki quipped. "In this house, you'll be a hug expert in no time."

"Yeah, if you want, we can all help you get comfortable with hugs?" Alesan pulled himself out of the pile, offering Sura a hug.

"Uh, alright?" she looked up at him uncertainly, not sure if she should get up or not.

"It's easier to hug if you stand up. Seated hugs get complicated." Alesan offered, a slight blush highlighting his tan cheeks.

"She's supposed to be off the ankle," Talon reminded him, watching this with a frown. He was, after all, her healer for the moment.

"Well, no time like the present, then." Alesan gallantly bent over, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a light squeeze. "It's okay to squeeze back a little."

"I feel awkward just watching this," Shell whispered to Gideon dryly as Sura hesitantly put her arms around the boy. At least she was better at it than Talon.

"Alright crew, I do believe the point of Aunt Nala's visit was to get everyone moving towards the palace? That means heavy cloaks and boots for all of you, and don't forget your heat enchants!" Erandur started the slow process of herding children off to get ready to brave the Windhelm weather. Besides, getting them moving also provided the perfect opportunity to derail current competitive shenanigans. He'd have to watch Heron and Alesan like a hawk.

" _Mellani,_  I think you better take charge of Sura's transportation before one of the boys volunteer," Shell suggested.

Haffod was just opening his mouth, when Gideon beat him to it. "You're right, Shell. Sura, would you mind greatly if I were to carry you for your audience with High King Ulfric?" As expected, Haffod subsided, trying to disappear in the background.

"My what?" she squeaked. Demeus and Heron also looked surprised, sharing an alarmed glance.

Mercutio chuckled, "Didn't think this far ahead, did you, kids? Did you forget Telki is the Stormblade alongside the rest of it?"

"Yeaaah, Ulfric kinda adopted me once I got to Skyrim," Telki informed them. "Who knows what would have happened if he hadn't?"

"Oh, Empress sounds most likely," Mercutio offered mischievously.

"All hail Her Excellency!" Erandur intoned, joining the fun.

"All hail!" Gideon slid Shell off his lap so he could go to one knee, tugging on her hand to join the joke. Shell used one of the very few things the courtesan trainer had managed to hammer into her and gave Telki a perfect curtsy.

" _Nooo_ nononono, don't even  _tease_  me about that. Isn't the Shivering Isles enough?" Telki hid her face in her hands, whining. The three new Young Ones shared glances at that, though, luckily, they had no idea what the Shivering Isles actually were.

Murril ran out, tugged on her hand and, when she had her attention, glanced back at Shell and tried to do what she was doing. She was fairly wobbly at it.

"Awww, thank you sweetling." Telki scooped her up for a long hug, which ended with raspberries on her neck, making Murril giggle out loud. It was the sweetest sound she'd heard all day. Telki held her up where she could see her eyes. "So, ready to go see Uncle Ulfric?"

Murril shook her head until her ears flapped and her hair flew around and burrowed into Telki. Murril wanted to stay in the Nice House and eat sweet things and wait by the wardrobe for Daddy to come out. The Big City was full of people and was really cold and she just wanted to sit in his pocket and snuggle.

"Well, Uncle Ulfric was hoping you'd come visit so he could have you taste test the new cook's sweetroll recipe. Rommy knows you'll be there, and he can come there just as easily as through the wardrobe, you know that, don't you? I'll even carry you under my cloak."

Thinking about this a moment, Murril nodded. Demeus was watching this with a puzzled look. Altmer children were uncommon, simply because of how long the Altmer lived, so it was a real surprise to see one outside Alinor. "Was she a Young One? I don't remember her from your dossier."

"Long story for another time. Let's say there's stuff out there that can even make a Young One thankful for their situation." Telki's brow furrowed. "Wait…wait wait wait…they dossiered my  _ **KIDS**_?"

"Not their own, but they are listed in yours. Names, ages, and races," Talon confirmed, giving Demeus a look that made the boy shrink back. "As well as your husbands and known associates."

"That's it. Top of the To Do list. I'll drop you all off, and Odahviing and I have a few places to visit." Telki was livid, extremely livid. She didn't mind being a target, in fact, she rather preferred being a target, because if they were aiming for her, then they weren't trained on her loved ones. She could even live with her husbands being targets, they rather did that to themselves, but her  _kids_? That was unacceptable, and she'd make that very clear to them the only way she knew how: burning them to bedrock.

"It's not in your common dossier," Talon informed her. "Only the most experienced see it," this was said while examining the teens.

"Does Demeus strike you as 'the most experienced'? No offense meant, Demeus." Telki offered the boy before turning her blazing eyes back on Talon. "The Thalmor have a dossier on my  _kids_ , Talon, and if I have to go to every single hideyhole the Thalmor don't think I know about in Nirn, I will burn it all to slag before I let them make a target of them."

"They learned better," he said, actually giving her a hint of a grim smile, "That's why it's not in the dossiers normally given out." She knew where they sequestered themselves? He approved, and made a mental note to compare her list with his own. "Elenwen had just gotten permission to interfere with them when you landed a dragon on her."

"If that dossier still exists, they apparently didn't learn the first time." Telki turned to Demeus. "Tell me how you got your hands on it, who had it, because they end tonight."

His eyes were wide as septims at this complete switch in her personality. "We knew we had to get information on you," he said, licking his lips, "So we stole it. We had a thief on our team. Sura cloaked her and she went in and stole it. It took them two weeks to get back."

"Where's the dossier now?" Telki relaxed slightly, softening her tone.

"She was carrying it when she fell into a lava flow in Morrowind," Heron said flatly.

"Aw no." Telki bowed her head, sorrow taking the wind out of her rage. Murril, a little frightened by her outburst, snuggled into her that much harder. Telki ran soothing hands up and down her back, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm sorry for your teammate, and I'm sorry I scared you, but I take my kids safety seriously. I think you might understand that a little." Telki took a deep breath in. "Who did your teammate steal it from?"

"Lord Koraes," Sura supplied, not noticing when Shell's eyes flickered to Talon, who actually visibly tensed before going totally still, the sense of relaxation that had been steadily growing since the escape gone. Telki caught the motion out of the corner of her eye, and filed it away as a topic for later with Talon.

"Talon, how many of those 'top level' dossiers are there?" She decided to change tack, hoping it'd give him time to settle.

"I don't have an answer for you," he replied after a moment. "I can tell you that Lord Koraes is not an active Lord in the Thalmor after the Great War. He collects information. They've compared him to Mora on more than one occasion."

Telki rocked Murril while she thought things through. "Two questions: how widely dispersed amongst 'top level's' would you estimate that information, and how likely is Lord Koraes to share his collected information?"

"It depends on who asked him," he replied, choosing his words carefully, but honestly. "He is very protective of his library. He does not even allow lamps within."

"Talon, honey, I'm two shakes from calling a dragon and visiting his library with it. If the Thalmor came calling, or someone else with designs on my kids, would he help them?"

"Not if he knew what they were about. He disapproves of outright attacking children. He only joined the Young Ones program to carry Altmer children away from the other lords."

"So, basically, he has the Talon stamp of approval. Okay. That's all you needed to say, shug.  _You_  I trust. Second question? About how many Thalmor know about my kids?"

He sighed, "I was a Weapons Master, not a lord," he finally said, showing more frustration than he normally allowed himself. "I was deliberately kept from some information."

"Guys? Why don't you get these guys moving to the Palace? Talon and I will catch up." Telki nodded her head towards the door, and the wide-eyed moppets gathered there. Lydia, Lucia, and Alesan were checking the littler ones over to make sure everyone was dressed for the weather. Heron and Demeus had strangely neutral expressions, but were obviously paying close attention until Shell ushered the out the door. Sura looked frightened, and actually squeaked when Gideon picked her up.

Once the last of them cleared out, Telki apologized. "I'm sorry, Talon. I was scared, and you're the closest to an expert on the Thalmor I know."

He examined her a moment, expression shuttered. "I was a spymaster. They did not want me getting too knowledgeable about their own failings."

"I should know that, I mean, it only makes sense, but you're so flipping amazing, I forget even you have limits. Any chances you'll forgive me soonish?" Telki's ears were drooping, and her tail remained hidden in her cloak, tucked away as firmly as Murril.

"Your anger and protectiveness are not something that need to be forgiven. They are understandable," he paused, contemplating something as he examined her.

"Yeah, but frustrating a friend to the point it's showing? That's not okay. I shouldn't do that to you. I'm sorry." Telki hefted Murril back up her hip. "And this shuttered expression going on right now? I do not ever want to be on this side of it again. How long till we can go back to you quipping jokes at me and letting me haul you down the hall?"

The pause that stretched out was increasingly uncomfortable in its length. Finally, he simply asked her, "If I told you to leave this particular lord alone, would you?"

"Uh, yes? You told me he's a decent sort, and I trust you, implicitly. I thought I said as much already?" Telki cocked her head at him. It wasn't like him to miss things.

"Not just now. Leave him out of your entire vendetta. I need to be clear on this," he said firmly.

"You said he only joined the program to save Altmer children, and isn't an active Thalmor anymore. The only way I'd 'go after' him was if he went after my family, that includes you, by the by, so as long as he stays in his library behaving himself, he has nothing to worry from me. That's as much as I can promise."

"He is likely to, but I cannot promise," Talon said, feeling his heart sink a bit but not showing it.

"I'll leave him be as long as he leaves us be. If he threatens one of the littles, or threatens you, I won't sit on my hands, but I will try for nonlethal even then. He's important to you, so I'll try."

Talon nodded curtly, once.

"Divines I want to hug you, I can feel you hurting from here," Telki grumbled. "But you probably don't want one, anyways."

"I was planning to stay and ward your house," he told her, taking refuge in familiar tasks. "I do not trust our newest editions entirely."

"Why do you think I have a room ready for you guys? They're brand spanking off the shelf Young Ones. I'm softhearted, not softheaded. Do you need or want some help?"

"I can help," Nala offered. She'd waited by the door while they talked softly, but figured now was a good time as any to join the conversation. "Last professor in Hammerfell said I had the steadiest hand for runes she'd seen in an age. Since she saw the end of one and the beginning of another, I figured that was decent praise."

He thought about it. "It could be you know something useful I do not. Thank you." Nala was able to tamp down the squeal, but the little bounce of happiness was beyond her control. Her enthusiasm cheered him slightly.

Seeing her home in good hands, Telki nodded to the both of them, and took her leave. Afterall, it was entirely unfair of her to drop her brood and new charges on Ulfric without giving him the opportunity to growl at her for it. "Come on, Murril, let's go get your sweetrolls."

Privately thinking they wouldn't be as good as Daddy's sweetrolls, Murril burrowed into her a little more and allowed herself to be carried off to the Big Drafty Place with All the People.

 


	18. Love Sought is Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary from Evil's fanfiction preview: Talon and Nala are complete nerds together. The Troublesome Trio meet the High King, and Shell gets an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image taken in my game, made awesome by Evil. 
> 
>  

 

The door closed behind Telki, leaving Nala and Talon totally alone in her sitting room. Nala told her racing heart to give it a rest, turning her mind to the magic to come. As usual, the idea of learning new ways of spellcraft won over her other preoccupations. "So, gimme some idea what you were thinking rune-wise, and I'll see what I can pull out of my bag of tricks?" Nala started rummaging in her satchel. She'd definitely need the glowchalk, and maybe that collection of salts, though she was low on Void salt, but had plenty of fire and frost.

Well, this was either going to earn him another sound of glee or a glare. "You won't need those. I can show you how to draft them from elements alone."

Nala's head bobbed up, eyes wide and interested, "Oooh, let's get started already." Her teachers never taught her this one, either.

Talon waved Nala over to the hearth and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the stone, letting himself fall into that space where there was nothing but teaching. It had stood him in good stead over the decades, blocking out the threat of death, pain, or worse, even the knowledge that any of his students that failed to learn would pay with their lives. Magic had always been one of his favorite things to teach: By the time any mage students were far enough to need his tutelage, there was an eagerness to them, a thirst for what he could show them. It had been a long time since he'd seen anyone as openly enthusiastic as Nala, however, especially when it came to fireballs.

Fire would be easiest for her to work with, he surmised, watching as Nala eagerly folded herself down across from him, ready to begin. It wasn't really helpful at the moment, but he noted it for later. "Do you know any lightweaving?" he asked. It was an Illusion spell, generally thought no more than a child's trick. It never failed to astound him how people discounted useful things if they happened to be used by children.

"Of course." Nala drew a little light sparrow, and blew on it to set it fluttering around Talon's head. "Nobody taught it to me, though."

Talon reached up and caught it, holding it hovering over his palm to examine it. "You do have an eye for detail," he said, tipping one wing up with a gentle finger. "How fluent are you in Daedric Runes?"

"Fairly fluent, I think. It's kinda hard to read the older tomes if you aren't." Not five minutes in, and Nala was already more than a little agog. How did Talon catch and manipulate her spell? He was basically doing the impossible, and making it look commonplace. "Talon, how are you doing that?"

He glanced up at her as the small bird lifted itself from his hand to sail around the room, contemplating his answer. "No one ever told me I couldn't, so as a child I simply did."

"Could you teach me? Seriously, I want to apprentice myself to you forever and a day at this point."

Glancing around, he rose and went to grab a small set of balls the children had been playing with, returning to find her gazing at him quizzically. "Watch these a moment," he said, tossing them up, one at a time, then tossing them to her, one at a time.

Nala caught all four easily, still watching Talon. "Okay?"

"There are only three balls there," he informed her. "It's a trick of perception, not a magic trick."

Nala's eyes glanced down at the balls in her hand, brow furrowed. Sure enough, there were only three cradled in her hand now. "But I  _felt_ four balls land. How?"

"When you thought of it as something that had weight and substance, you perceived weight and substance. Once you realized it shouldn't, it didn't. Mages affect the world, but especially spells, in ways they often underestimate," he told her. "It is something you will need to actively work on. Mindsets are not easily changed."

"No kidding." Nala's expression soured, remembering her college experiences. Some professors were so set in their ways they had petrified there. "So, is this a practice 'til I get it thing, or are there some thought tricks I can use, or…will you even have time to work with me on this?" Nala was ready to cry. "We're supposed to be runing the house right now."

"You naturally use this when you lightweave, as you set the spell," he reminded her. "That part, at least, is applicable." These women went through the gamut of emotions so fast, it sometimes left him dizzy. She'd been so happy just a few minutes ago, and now she looked nearly defeated.

"Well, no time like the present to get started, I suppose. Since we're lightweaving them into place, are they going to have the permanency the ingredient-based runes do?" Nala sat up on her knees, ready to get started.

"No, but they will last for our purposes," he said. "The longer you wish them to last, the more magicka you put into their creation. Sura, at least, will be able to detect them if they are too strong. Possibly Heron, as well."

"Oooh, basically, a situation where temporary is better than permanence. That makes sense. So, what's our first aim, then?" She wasn't going to tell him she thought she'd figured out the light runes. It really was just a variation on battle runes and trap runes at that, but one she hadn't imagined a need for using before now.

"Before we start I want to see you make some," he said firmly. "And when I know you can and they're stable, I'll show you which ones I had in mind."

Nala tilted her head, wondering. What would help in a house with three volatile Young Ones? The spell for 'calm' came to mind, and Nala drew the sigil for it in the soothing blues that 'calm' always brought to mind, circling it twice with a binding to make it a rune spell, rather than a targeted spell. She blew it into place over the hearth, and watched it set with a blue burst burning into the stone. "Something like that?"

"Not particularly what I had in mind, but you seem to have gotten the trick of it." He made a mental note to tell Shell about this if she ever got on his nerves again. It had taken her an obscenely long time to pick this up. Regarding it a moment longer, he nodded, "These shall be useful, I think. Perhaps we should inquire if Telki wants us to place them around her boys, as well."

"She trusts you, y'know," Nala reminded him. "If she were going to have issues with anything you decided to put up, she would have stuck around to 'help.'"

"These are her children," he said, "It is polite."

"That she trusts you with implicitly," Nala said. "In other words, you already have permission."

"Do you know paralysis glyphs?" he asked after a moment, steering them back to the original subject. Truly, back on Alinor, he would have avoided the male posturing by keeping them too busy to think, let alone fight over a girl.

"I know one trap glyph that paralyzes whomever triggers it. That one?" Nala asked.

"Deliberate trigger or blundering into it?" he asked, thinking of bear traps.

"It paralyzes whomever steps on it." Nala sketched it lightly in the air, so Talon could see it, then letting it fade out. "Useful during a fight, or if you want to guard something."

Talon copied it in the air, the silvery lines shining in the firelight. "Try it this way," he said, moving the runes slightly along the outside edge of the circle and drawing a few new ones in to make it deliberately activated. Runes weren't all that difficult to make, once someone had gotten the trick of balancing their structure. Since they were written in the same language as power tomes anyway, most people could learn them, though most only learned the cantrip ones of fire, frost, and lightning.

"Oooh, that's clever. You know, I could really have used that when I was in the dorms." Nala eagerly copied the runes, feverishly spinning into being an exact replica of what Talon had shown her. "Like that?"

"Yes," he said, watching her. He wondered how long it would take her to realize she could alter all the runes she knew with this method. He started counting. He made it to six.

"Sithis in a sitz bath," Nala breathed as she studied the runes. "If I just…this there, and that here, and if that was…" Nala manipulated the runes before her, taking on a soft purple glow as she did. "Now it's a shock that works the same way, right? And since I did that there, it'll recharge off the spent energy, right?"

"I'd never thought of that," he admitted, eyes tracing the new sigils she'd integrated. It would be weaker each time, but if it reformed fast enough, it could be as effective as an extended burst until it wasn't dangerous anymore. "Now, how are you going to keep just anyone from triggering it?"

Nala studied it. "Key it. If I add keys, here, here, and there," graceful fingers reached out to make a starpoint at each spot she indicated, "I can set it so you, Shell, Telki and her spouses can set it off."

"What are you using for a trigger? I recommend against stomping, unless you want them to be paralyzed and electrocuted."

"Vocal command would possibly be easiest." Nala manipulated the runes further, which set it spinning. "Uh oh, what'd I do?"

Talon frowned and warded both of them as the runes spun faster, the inner circles collapsing down until it resembled a glowing funnel of sigils and light. It whirled around the room like a cyclone, picking up a small collection of pebbles, all three balls, Nala's little bird illusion, and a snowberry that had rolled under a chair. It started to grow, sparks arcing from each captured object to the next. Talon reached out and put a sink in the energies, grounding them and trying to drain the magic out of it, and it shrank, becoming slightly less volatile, but apparently centering on the objects it had taken.

Finally, it paused, though parts of it still whirled and sparked. Glowing pinpricks of light looked out at them from one of the balls. It made a sound like a burp.

They both regarded it in silence for a long moment before Nala asked flatly, "Talon, did the spell just burp?"

"Ah," he stared at it, completely bewildered. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd been taken so aback by magic. "Yes."

Nala blinked, rubbed her eyes, and blinked again. "It looks like a miniature storm atronach, but with toys."

"Yes," he agreed, kneeling next to the edge of the ward to examine it better.

"How?" Nala knelt down next to him, summoning every speck of Sight she ever claimed to have to study the newly formed atronach. "I mean, I didn't summon anything, so, does this mean I  _created_  an atronach?"

"I honestly hope not," he said. "If I had to guess, it's because there is a lot of floating Daedric energy and chaos magic used in this house." He made a mental note to hold any further magic lessons elsewhere, and to suggest the children practice elsewhere, as well.

"There's definitely some Daedric in the warp and weft, but not as much as I'd expect if it were a summons. Huh. I'm confused. " Nala sat down flat on her bottom. "Have you ever seen anything like this?" There was an awful lot of hope in those words.

"I am afraid not," he said, doing a couple of quick tests that proved the atronach docile, and taking the ward back into himself. The little thing rotated to face him, then seemed to wiggle somewhat. He had no idea what to make of it.

Nala studied it, that wiggle suspiciously familiar. Was it possible? Could her and Talon's rune weaving plus the wild magic inherent in this house have made an honest to goodness atronach, albeit a very small one?

Talon lowered his hand, and the small thing floated up to it, examining it as he moved it back and forth, like a dog watching the bit of food being dangled in front of it. "I believe," he said, using the limited Sight he had needed to learn in magic training, "our little friend here has a distinct purpose."

"Do you want to borrow my Sight?" Nala hesitantly offered. "I can see clear weaves, but I'm not sure what to make of them."

He considered this for a moment, a little taken aback. Of course she would offer. She was very trusting. Not that he would hurt her, but if he'd planned to, he could have taken over her mind in an instant with a well-placed spell, or simply mindblasted her into uselessness. Watching the little atronach spin, he pondered that, and realized that she might know exactly what she was offering, since she had probably had the schooling, the training, to build defences against such a thing.

"I am not accustomed to seeing the structure of magic," he prevaricate, "I would likely be unable to make more sense of it than you can." That was somewhat true, and unlikely to hurt her feelings overmuch that he did not want to meld that way with anyone.

"Wait, what am I thinking? How about I show you what I'm seeing?" Nala thought a moment, then traced the flows she saw in the atronach in the air before her and Talon. "There, that's what I see. What do you make of it?"

He gazed at it in surprise, eyes tracing over the structures and intricate forms before, abruptly, it snapped into alignment and he actually smothered a grin behind a hand, regarding it. "I do hope I am there the next time those boys start competing with each other," he announced.

"Oh?" Nala cocked her head inquisitively at Talon. "Whyfor?" Was that a smile? It was. Talon was smiling, and the things it did to her knees shouldn't be allowed. Nala delicately moved herself into a chair before they gave her away. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn't wanted to borrow her Sight. He probably would have seen half the things she wanted to hide.

"Before you came to fetch them, Erandur hit Heron with a small shock spell when the boy made a few too many advances," he informed her. "This will act much the same. Anyone flirting outrageously will likely find themselves on the receiving end of a shock, at its discretion."

Nala stare at him for half a moment, before falling back in the chair, howling with laughter. "We…we made…a minor atronach…of chastity!" She managed to gasp out between gales of laughter.

"Perhaps we should figure out exactly how we managed this," he suggested dryly. "If today was any indication, we could go into business."

"Talon and Nala, fine purveyors of atronachs of good behavior," Nala giggled.

"I cannot help but wonder if it is going to survive its first encounter with Sanguine," he said ruefully, lowering his hand completely. The atronach settled over it and permitted him to examine it, docile as a messenger pigeon.

"Oh dear, the poor mite," Nala cooed. Her brow furrowed. "Any way to shield the poor thing?"

"Of course," he said, giving her a wry look, "get Telki attached to it."

Nala giggled again, "All that requires is showing the wee thing to her."

"Indeed," he agreed, crouching to let the atronach float off his hand and around the room, collecting more snowberries from forgotten corners. They must have had them at breakfast. "I shudder to think what Blaise will try to name it." The others would as well, no doubt, but he could imagine some of the crazy things that particular boy would come up with.

"Then we need to already have a name for it. Elding. It's a good, strong Nord name they can't complain about," Nala advised.

"They're likely to end up calling it 'Sparks' or something anyway," he warned her. On Alinor there had once been a larger than usual mudcrab with half a claw that the guards had dubbed with an appropriate elven name for its tenacity and great age. The Young One children had called it Snippy, and Snippy it had remained for over forty years.

"What do you think, little one? Do you prefer Sparks or Elding?" Nala asked the little snowberry infused atronach, drawing a rune for each in the air before it. It looked at one rune, then the other, then floated away to find more snowberries.

"Well, it was worth a shot," Nala blew a strand of hair out of her face. "So, how do we go about investigating what caused it without inundating the house with minitranachs?"

"We shall simply have to observe it for now," he said, watching it zoom through the house, "We do have things to attend to."

"And runing the house?" Nala asked. "It was creating a rune for the house that caused it in the first place."

"It was experimenting with them," he corrected gently, "I'll show you some ones more time-tested, and we can continue experimenting some other place less ridden with chaos magic."

"I'm all yours, teach away." Nala threw her arms wide and curtsied low, a sunny smile lighting her face.

Ignoring the little atronach for now, he showed her the paralysis glyph and several other useful ones she could set. He would place the more delicate ones, since he'd want to see them done consistently several times before he let her place them. They were too easily negated or detected if not made absolutely correct. Finally, he led her up to the boy's room and watched her successfully place the first of the runes, admiring the delicate way she went about it and contrasting it with some amusement to the way she loved to make things explode. When she had finished, he stepped forward and took his turn, choosing to hide this set in the furniture, rather than the walls.

Nala watched Talon work, and was having trouble hiding her reaction. When he bent over to place the first rune on the underside of the nightstand, she was treated to the graceful curve of back, muscular thighs and bitable backside. That wasn't helping. The fact that he was bent over tracing a complex rune into place on an underside surface? That was a skill she'd happily sacrifice a limb to learn.

Talon hid the last of the runes in with the woodgrain, moving some to various other places now that they were completed. Pulling out a smooth white riverstone he borrowed from whichever child liked unadorned rocks (there were some things about children he'd never understand), he completed the rune along it's flat, smooth side.

"Oh, now that's interesting, what is that one?" Nala asked, studying the spell woven into the rock.

He tossed it to her, "Go out in the hallway and close the door," he told her. Nala raised an eyebrow at him, but did as he asked, closing the door behind her softly.

"Okay, now what?" she called to him through the door.

There was a bit of a pause. "Either the muffle enchant is working perfectly or you're being strangely quiet," his voice floated up to her from the stone, sounding as if it were coming from the bottom of a well.

"Oh my Divines above, this is brilliant!" Nala looked down at the stone, then at the closed door, which she then opened. "I'm guessing a two-way on the stone would defeat the original purpose, and you put a muffle that works on the door? Have you figured one to quell Dragonborn induced vibrations?"

"Highly considering making it a priority," he confessed. He had no idea how the children slept through that; He certainly wouldn't have been able to. "As to making it two way, you can simply place two sets of runes on the opposite sides of two objects." The crystals the Thalmor used to communicate with thier agents used a more complicated version of that particular rune, though he kept that knowledge to himself for the moment.

"Clever, that might be useful when scouting." Nala studied the stone, imagining the way the runes would have to fit. "Wemie and I could have used this a few times already." Nala gently flipped the stone into a beltpouch. "Now, which parent do I give it to?"

"Probably Erandur or Telki. Mercutio and Gideon are burdened with dual distractions. Lydia might also be a good choice, but she has much on her mind."

Nala shook her head. "How does that even work? I'm dizzy just trying to figure who's who to which one."

"Telki is with Gideon, Mercutio, Erandur, and Romulus. I believe she met Erandur first. Lydia and she are friends, and Lydia is also involved with, if not married to, Mercutio and Erandur. Rommy and Telki are engaged, as are Gideon and Shell, and I believe Shell is trying to seduce Lydia," he summed up. "And, of course, Mercutio has recently started a relationship with Sanguine. That part I am still surprised at."

"Yeah, you and me both." Nala shook her head in disbelief, "And the kids seem disturbed not a bit by any of it. I don't think I was ever that…confident? Settled?"

"Encountering something every day does tend to take the strangeness out of it."

"These are going to be the most jaded kids in existence. 'Look, a dust strider is falling out of the sky!'" Nala mimicked a young voice. " 'Yeah, saw that once growing up, don't hardly see it anymore.'" She gave Talon an expectant look. "Am I wrong?"

"Probably not, though they may learn Telki's trait of taking every new day with bright interest," he pointed out, wondering how she got the energy. Anu, that woman made him feel old.

"You have a point. They might. Not sure that's an improvement." Nala felt her fur try to fluff in atavistic horror. Yes, she knew she had her moments, but Telki could wear even Ama out. There was a reason Nala stayed with her books. She did not want to imagine the horror a brood of children all gifted with Telki's zest for  _everything_  could wreak.

Talon took in her fur standing on end and smiled a bit, eyes lighting with laughter he was too used to hiding to express. "I think we're done for the moment. Shell's wards are still active from last night, and Sura is so transparent it's shocking." Not to mention he'd warded her room the night before. Most of them were for her protection, but some were from her, as well.

"Oh wow," Nala bit her lip, there went her mouth outpacing her brain. His eyes, though, crinkled with laughter were surely a natural wonder of Tamriel. She felt a bit faint at the sight, and was pretty sure her jaw was hanging again.

"Nala?" he gave her a bit of a puzzled frown, reaching out to feel her forehead. "Are you well?" She'd already proven to have some sort of dizzy spells in the Great Hall, he hoped it wasn't a repeat of that incident.

"Oh, it's nothing, just me being silly." Nala did her best to play it off. She did not want to scare him off or convince him she was just a bit of fluff.

"Are you dizzy again?" he glanced her over with concern, considering ushering her to a chair, though most of them seemed to have toys on them.

"It's passed now," Nala assured him, her heart skipping a bit at his concern. Divines help her, he was sweet, talented, and gorgeous. How was she supposed to handle it?

"Good," he nodded. "I was hoping you and your sisters would assist me this afternoon."

"Pretty sure we'd be thrilled to help, especially as much as you've already done for this family, which I think Telki's adopted you into by the by."

"It may be messy," he warned.

"Oh, then I know for certain Ama's going to love it. Me, not so much, but have clean spells, will travel."

Talon opened the door for her, waiting for her to exit before closing it behind them and offering his arm to escort her, a little fearful she was hiding continued dizziness out of embarrassment. Nala had to bite her lip to keep from squealing at his thoughtfulness. "I wished to assess the children further. Your course the other morning and their game in the courtyard gave me the idea. The only problem is that they are used to being motivated by fun. I do not know how to make such a thing entertaining."

Nala bounced on her feet. "Oh, that's easy! You make it an adventure maze, Illusion spells on the dummies, and a prize chest at the end of the run. Or prizes for the best time, or best hits on the dummies, or different prizes for different things. There's half a chance most of them will ask to run it again, prizes or no prizes, if we do the Illusions right."

"Prizes?" he asked, looking puzzled again.

"Oh, nothing major; trinkets, treats, bragging rights. Telki will have a handle on those, easy."

"Oh, good. I used to reward students with free time. That obviously won't work," he didn't bother to hide all his relief.

"They do have chores, though. So, a free pass on a chore for a day would be a prize." Nala tapped her chin in thought. "Come to think of it, that might be the prize that gets the best effort out of them."

"That should be the top one, then," he decided, nodding to the guards as they passed. After the kidnapping he'd given them all a lecture, and now they all seemed somewhat wary of him. Respectful, but wary. He hadn't been called a "damned elf" since then, either. One even opened the door for them.

A small form barreled into them as soon as they got inside, looking at them quizzically and checking all their pockets. She sensed Daddy Magic and wanted to know if they were hiding him.

"Hmmm, hey sweetie, what is it?" Nala wished she knew more about Murril's circumstances.

"Woah, did you guys step in the wardrobe or something? You're kinda, glowy a bit." Telki had followed Murril at a somewhat slower pace, and was squinting at them.

"It seems chaos magic is attracted to other kinds," Talon mused, wondering exactly what they looked like to Sight. He knelt, letting the girl examine him carefully, like he would a shy kitten. He was not sure how she had come to be damaged so, but he would avoid frightening her further.

She lifted his hair and peered into his ears, then proceeded to play with an errant curl, pulling it to make it boing back up. He sighed.

"She's missing Rommy, he's been her touchstone for as long as I've known her. For him to hare off without her, it's rough on her. The magic around you right now? That's kinda Rommy's calling card." Telki lifted Murril up so she could inspect the rest of him to her satisfaction. Nala made a yeeping sound for the both of them. Telki'd been hurting for her since Rommy bowled them both over.

"Murril, sweetie, can I hug you? Please?" Nala was even making grabby hands at the little girl.

Murril looked her up and down, then nodded. Nala cuddled her close. "So, there's a present back at the house, thanks to the wild magic."

"You should probably sit, Nala," Talon said, putting a hand in the small of her back and ushering her forward to the end of the table.

"Why?" Telki looked between Talon and Nala, who was blushing!

"Her knees gave out in the Great Hall the other morning, and just now in the house she seemed dazed," he explained.

"Huh, the only other time I saw her do that…" Telki found herself suddenly snatched around and moving quickly to the table, where the rest of the family plus Tyr's family and Ulfric were eating. Perhaps the kids would keep everyone distracted from That Which Does Not Need Discussing.

Sure it would, and spriggans would play nice with lumberjacks. "Talon, why don't you share your idea with Telki? You two could go plan it out while they're all in here stuffing their faces and surprise them after?"

"You are all so energetic," he finally said after a moment of staring after her, vaguely confused. Perhaps it was a Khajiit thing? Shaking that thought away, he turned to look at the Dragonborn. "I requested your and your sisters' assistance making an entertaining course for the children to run. I can show you what kinds of things I need, and you can make them…" he searched for words a moment, "not daunting." Of course, asking Pearl, Blossom, or Bjartr to run it would probably get their competitive spirits going, should any of them have such a thing.

"Oooh! An adventure maze!" Telki bounced in place as the idea took shape. "It isn't daunting, it's exciting! If we use the right Illusions…um, you and Nala will do the Illusions, right? You want to use the practice ring, right?" Telki made a questioning face around Talon, to which Nala made shooing motions. Sister signal received, Telki walked with Talon to plan out the most elaborate and entertaining training maze to ever be built out of hay bales.

As Talon started explaining what kinds of things he'd need, Murril looked from Nala to the table laden with lunch, pouting not to see anything made by Daddy, and grumpily ate a carrot.

Erandur, seeing the pout, signaled to the new chef, a well spoken, well dressed Orc, to bring out the platter of still piping sweetrolls. "I think a certain young lady was promised the first taste test, to see if they're up to standards?"

Nala's mouth watered just to smell them, but she dutifully handed the first one to Murril. The little Altmer looked at it, sitting on her hands covered with gooey frosting. It smelled good, but not like Daddy's. It was spongy like Daddy's, and warm. Her eyes filled up with tears, staring at the sweetroll. If she ate it, would it be being mean to Daddy? Would it be giving up on Daddy?

"If that's going to make you sad can I have it, because they make me happy," Blossom said, staring at it.

"Blossom!" Orien cried, elbowing her like he's seen any number of Telki's children do when their sibling said something wrong. "She's sad!"

"I can see that! The sweetroll is causing it. I am offering to get rid of it for her," Blossom watched Orien climb onto the bench next to Nala and cuddle the Altmer.

"Murril? You do know Rommy will still happily make you all the sweetrolls you want when he comes home, right? He won't be mad at you for eating this one, or enjoying this one." Nala might not be the quickest on the uptake, but she would eventually get there.

Orien reached over and plucked a piece off, holding it up to his friend's mouth. "Say ah!" he urged with his usual cheer. Faced with that, Murril opened her mouth and let him plop it in, cheeks turning orange in pleasure as it melted on her tongue. Blossom eagerly asked if she could test the next one.

Nala, nearly done in by the sheer cuteness of the trio, handed a steaming sweetroll to the bright-eyed and ever-so-eager little girl. She was quick to give the next to Orien, and then passed the plate so the rest of the children could enjoy the sweet pastries.

"So why was your face all red and do you really fall down?" Blossom asked her artlessly halfway through her sweetroll.

"Only under very specific situations, which I cannot discuss at the meal table," Nala shared. Two Khajiit halfway down the table spewed their drinks at the same time.

"Who?" Ama gaped.

"Talon?" Wemie guessed, sending Nala's cheeks back into the red. Three husbands behind her simultaneously covered their mouths, trying to hold their humor at bay. Shell looked horrified, and exchanged a quick look with her mother, who shook her head with a quelling expression. Tyr was laughing and missed all of it.

"Hey, Blossom, look!" Orien said excitedly, holding up a short lock of hair to Nala's face. "She matches!" Nala moaned and hid her head in her arms; perhaps the wild magic would do her a favor, and open a pocket dimension to swallow her whole. No, she wanted a real chance with him, which meant nipping this hilarity in the bud, now.

Putting Murril aside on the bench, Nala slowly rose up onto her hands, leaned over the table with the fiercest and most serious face any of them had seen to date. Wemie put a hand on Ama to still her giggles. "Yes, I am serious. No, you will not be making fun of me around him, or dare bring it up around him. I think his feelings have been yanked and jerked quite enough while he was held by the Thalmor, and by the Divines, if it happens, it will happen without your help or shenanigans. Am I clear?"

Wemie nodded, "I promise. Ama?"

Ama huffed, "Fine, I'll behave."

Nala nodded at them, and sat back down. "Thank you."

Fey was giving her an approving look that had Tyr raising an eyebrow and glancing from one to the other, wondering what he was missing. Shell leaned back against Gideon and muttered dubiously to herself. She couldn't remember Talon ever having a lover, or even a friend. If he only liked men, he probably would have pursued Shade…they had seemed to get on well, anyway. She groaned softly, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

Large warm hands rubbed up and down Shell's arms. A low rumble for her ears only said, "What's troubling you?"

"Who am I supposed to stab when this blows up?" Gideon cuddled her close, offering her what comfort he could while he thought it over, grinning as he realized what her worries meant.

"So Talon's promoted to family now? I'm proud of you. Eh, if it blows up, we'll wait to find out which one is wrong, and then make fun of them until they fix it. However, you forget whose sister she is. It may work out between them just because it shouldn't."

Thinking that over, Shell couldn't help but agree. "It'd be really weird, though," she said lowly, "seeing him with someone. He's been like…this Isle of Talon for as long as I've known him. I can't remember him ever being…yeah. That's weird."

Gideon propped his chin on her head, still gently rubbing her arms. "It sounds to me as if Talon has been lonely for a very long time. Perhaps it is past time for him to have a someone, too."

"Weeelll," she gazed pensively after him, "He apparently has three decades of chastity to make up for, if nothing else."

Gideon winced. "Three decades? Mer has an iron will even Ysgramor himself would envy."

"He could just be very discreet, but honestly, everyone was so petrified of him, and he's not the type to pull one of the female prisoners out for himself, even though we were allowed. I don't know what all his missions were, though." Idly, she toyed with her hair, thinking back for any sign, any glimmer that might change that notion. Still, all she could picture was him alone. Struck by sudden sadness, she shifted to snuggle under Gideon's arm, drawing pensive shapes on his thigh.

"And now you're feeling guilty you never thought about it until now, aren't you?" Gideon nuzzled her around until he could kiss her temple. "Honestly, that you can see it now is a miracle, given what hell the Thalmor put you all through." Gideon's eyes glinted, "Although, if you're feeling that guilty about it, is there anything other than staying completely out of it to give this a fair chance?"

"Erm…lock them in a closet and throw in a lust spell?" she guessed, shrugging. "If you recall, feelings were not my forte. I was supposed to go into the Legion and bludgeon people, possibly seduce the general, be a source of chaos and information and sabotage, all those lovely things."

Gideon imagined the outcomes of tossing them into a closet with such a spell, and didn't care for them. "No to the closet and spell." Gideon raised an eyebrow, "The general, eh? Well, if you still want him, he's back in Cyrodiil, in the apartments set aside for foreign Ambassadors."

"Nah, he likes sheepy maidens," she stated with complete confidence. "I would have driven him insane."

"Eh, I wouldn't call Rikke sheepy." Gideon rubbed the back of his neck, face turning red, and wasn't discovering that a surprise on all sides?

"Wait, what?" she asked, twisting around to look at him.

"Telki again." Seeing that made nothing clearer, Gideon decided to explain. "At the end of the war, Galmar, Telki, and Ulfric had Rikke and Tullius cornered in Castle Dour. Rikke's set to die for her cause, and Telki paralyzed them both with a scroll Merc prepared for her. She explained that they would make the perfect ambassadorial team to Cyrodiil for Skyrim. Rikke would keep Tullius honest and Skyrim's needs at the forefront. Between Tullius' knowledge of how the Empire operates and his grievance against them, he'd welcome the opportunity to make them dance to his tune for a change. The Empire had left him out here to win or rot with no support." From her incredulous expression, this was apparently all new. "Yes, it took a great deal of convincing, but they managed it eventually. Tossed together that much, it was only a matter of time before one would kill the other, or they'd fall in bed together. I guess they both decided to live."

Shell giggled. "That's adorable, but wrong general. Wrong Legion. There are several, you know."

Gideon shook his head. "That I've lived long enough to hear Tullius called adorable. So, which Legion, which general, and how big an upgrade am I?"

She winked at him and slid onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Not telling." Gideon rolled his lip out and gave her the saddest of big eyed pouts. "Not going to work,  _mellani,"_ she assured him, leaning in to nibble the protruding bottom lip.

"Does it at least get me a kiss? That might salve my poor ravaged pride," Gideon prompted, eyes going half lidded and heavy with promise.

"Poppa Giddy and Momma Shell, sitting in a tree!" crowed Blaise, popping up behind their chair, devious glee lighting his wide grin. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

Once more, Shell found herself jumping in Gideon's arms like a frightened cat. The look she gave the boy had chilled more than one Thalmor recruit. "Blaise, I am going to tell you this once. Do you know how if you scare a guard dog, it will bite you because that is what is was taught to do? Feel free to think of me as a guard dog. Please save us both the pain." She seriously wished she could be joking, but apparently this boy had either horrible or miraculous timing and the ability to sneak. It was a disaster waiting to happen if he didn't stop.

Blaise studied her, brow furrowed while trying to puzzle out what she said. "You look more like a fox than a guard dog. Wait, you said I scared you? How can anything scare you? You're tough!"

"You like making me jump," she elaborated, still with that forbidding expression. "Bad things happen when I get too jumpy."

"Oh," Blaise's face fell. "I'm sorry I made you jump, and I will try to do better." His eyes lit up. "Hey, if I do better, will you teach me how to use throwing knives?"

"I'll think about it," she said after a long pause. There were multiple ways that could go wrong. Part of her was looking forward to it. Gideon shuddered.

**.**

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**.**

Ulfric sat at the head of the table, surrounded by Telki's newest finds. With the children and the Khajiit present, Ulfric left his dignity in his room with his cloak. It would do him no good here and now, he reflected as he studied the teens through the fingers of the hand supporting his poor head. The headache wasn't likely to subside until this newest tangle was unraveled. It didn't help that the entirely too handsome for his own good and cocksure youngling teased an old memory like a sore tooth. Hints of mannerisms, a certain expression would remind him of…someone, but neither face nor name would clear in his mind.

"Are you well, Jarl Ulfric?" Sura asked quietly, still unsure of the looming figure. She had expected him to wear a crown, but with the way he carried authority on his shoulders, completely unconscious, it really wasn't needed. Since "power" had often meant "danger" in her life, she was wary, but was trying not to be obvious about it.

Ulfric gave the sweet girl a smile, and wondered if he needed to add more guards to the Stormblade's household. With both the boy and this girl who had no clue just how beautiful she was in a city full of green recruits…calling it volatile was an understatement. "Merely a headache. It will pass."

"Heron could fix it for you," she offered shyly, flushing a bit.

Ulfric looked over to where Heron was charming yet another serving girl. The boy wasn't doing anything objectionable; he was being polite with the younger ones, and only flirting gallantly with the matrons, who would flush or smile according to her nature and occasionally swat him with a towel. Ulfric would bet the last sweetroll there would be a fight in the kitchens as soon as they all left the table. "He seems a bit preoccupied at the moment."

"Heron," she called, her soft voice somehow rising above the din. "Would you please come over here?"

"Of course," he said, looking surprised. He bounded over with the grace and energy of a well-bred horse, eyes shining. "What can I do for you?" he asked her.

Ulfric watched the speed of Heron's response to Sura with mild surprise. Well, that would certainly quell the rivalries if that was the way the winds blew. If these two only had eyes for each other, it would save him a lot of headaches.

"Our host has a headache," she told him.

"And you offered my services to fix it for him?" he asked, amused.

A rare teasing grin lit her face, "You weren't doing anything else useful."

He clutched his heart like she had stabbed him, "You wound me." Turning to Ulfric, he swept him a bow. "Do you wish me to end the pain in your head? Alas, if the source is the noisy children, I really don't know how to calm them. That would be Sura's department."

Ulfric smiled at the boy. That charming nature would either be his salvation or ruination, and at the moment, Ulfric couldn't say which was more likely. "It has several causes, I'm afraid. If you could but ease it a little, I would be thankful."

Heron walked over and held his hands on either side of Ulfric's head with a strangely business-like manner, Healing light arching from his palms. "Let's see…you have a lot of tension in the base of your skull…and you apparently clench your jaw sometimes…were you aware you had a light headcold?"

Ulfric's eyes widened in surprise. "No, I was not aware of the headcold. The rest, I knew." One's jaw tended to tighten when one forcibly held back words or a well-deserved  _Fus_.

"You might want to change your pillow," Heron suggested, easing the aching muscles going down the man's neck, "It could be your head is resting at the wrong angle, and your neck has to support it all night."

Ulfric considered that. "That is possible." Ulfric looked up to see one of the serving girls stare at him and the boy Healing his head with wide eyes. "If you would, please, have one of the maids put a thicker pillow on the chest by my door." She quickly bobbed a curtsy and flew back to the kitchens with the news.

Heron withdrew his hands and surveyed his "patient." "Better?"

Ulfric flexed his neck and jaw, feeling freedom from tension for the first time in days. "Very much so. My thanks, young Heron. Please, let's speak of your quest now. What do you know that might help us locate your parents?"

"They were Nords locked in a prison pit in Alinor roughly eighteen years ago and the female one gave birth," he said, shrugging helplessly. He plopped next to Sura and stole a couple of grapes from her plate. She barely seemed to notice besides passing him a bowl to put them in.

"Then it seems we wait for the return of our mage," Ulfric sighed. The headache was gone, but the memory refused to surface, and he would not pluck at the young man's hope with half a remembered memory.

"Still not sure why you want to find them," Demeus finally piped up, glowering at them from his spot at the table. "They were imprisoned by the Thalmor. They'd probably hate you for what they turned you into."

Heron shrugged nonchalantly, "But at least I'll know."

"Interesting, the assumptions you jump to, young Demeus." Ulfric sat back and regarded the hotheaded young man with a measuring eye. Were the chip on his shoulder physical, it would crush all of Tamriel. "Do you see any hate here at my table? And yet, I was one of those prisoners kept in a pit by Thalmor. You know whence you came, why would you deny another the right to know?"

He scoffed, glaring down at his plate. "I'd rather not know."

"You wish that memory taken from you? You think you'd rather wonder?" Ulfric sat back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, hard eyes boring into Demeus' own. "If you were offered the option to forget, would you really take it, because I am certain it could be arranged."

The Redguard looked stricken, then thoughtful. "I don't know," he confessed. "Maybe if someone would tell me afterwards that there was no point in looking."

"There's no point in looking for my parents," Sura pointed out, looking down at her fine-boned hands. "I dearly wish there was."

"Sura," Ulfric didn't know what to say. This was not a position he found himself in, and he wished Telki had stuck around to handle her foundlings. From somewhere, he dredged up halting words. "Look about you. While none of them can take your parents' place, they are people that care about you, and will walk with you as far as you let them down your life's path. That is no small thing."

"Aw, you're blushing," Heron said, poking her in the cheek. "See, you don't have to be down. The crazy cat lady took you in, and she is scary when provoked. And I'm fairly certain you are going to be smothered in hugs."

Sura gave him an affectionately exasperated look and pushed his poking finger away from her face. "You're ridiculous," she said, but she did feel better.

**.**

* * *

 

**.**

Gideon watched Shell watching Ulfric's talk with the foundlings. She laid back against him, looking for all the world at her ease, but he could feel the tension in her fingers clasping his and straining through her shoulders. She was tense as a bowstring at full draw. Against those lovely ears he adored, he asked softly "Love, what has you on edge?"

Thoughtful eyes that had darkened to the color of moss flickered up to him. "Just observing," she said. "I haven't made conclusions yet. I'll share them when I have."

Gideon rubbed her shoulders, making it look like nothing more than a lover's gentle caress. "Simple observation should not leave you knotted like a sailor's rope."

"I never said they were simple," she pointed out, her voice somewhat more terse than normal.

"Tell me what to help watch for, then. I mislike feeling as though I'm letting you down."

"If I were looking for something specific, I wouldn't be this bothered," she confessed, sighing.

"Ah, your instincts are on edge, and you cannot place why." Now Gideon felt he understood, which lowered his own tension some. "For the record, I'd trust your instincts before my own. So, I shall help you watch."

Grinning, she leaned up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "You're adorable when you're useful."

Gideon gave her a full smile. "Then I must be more useful more often."

An awkward throat clearing behind them alerted them to the presence of a guard. He shifted from foot to foot, looking rather uncertain. "Mistress, there is a…small woman here to see you."

Shell lifted a single eyebrow at the description. "I see. And does this small woman have a name?"

"Er…she…said to go get you," he prevaricated.

"Shall we go inspect this mysterious small woman,  _mellani_?" Gideon kept his voice light, but the bottom had dropped out of his stomach, approximately the same time he distinctly heard the other shoe drop. Septims to sweetrolls this was what had her instincts on high alert.

"Oh, let's," she replied, hopping off him and brushing down her skirt. She was really starting to like them, though she'd cheerfully strangle anyone that suggested it. Taking his hand, she waved to the guard to lead on, unsurprised to find he'd put the guest in one of the small anterooms peppered throughout the Palace. Glancing at Gideon, she straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. This was what they had been waiting for, she just knew it. Pushing open the doorway, she went to see what her spies had brought her.


	19. But Given Unsought is Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy Shenanigans and Other Things of Interest
> 
>  
> 
> Image taken from my game. Made awesome by Evil-is-Relative  
> 

 

Well, their guest certainly was small from a Nord's point of view, though she still topped Shell. The Breton awaiting them was a bit on the plump side, with rarely seen oculars and curly hair that wanted to escape the utilitarian braid it had ruthlessly been confined to. She was tapping her toes at the other guard in the room, and Shell suppressed a smile that her curls were so dense they made her braid look like nothing so much as the tail of an angry cat.

"Well, you haven't changed," Shell said with some amusement.

"There you are!" the woman said, giving Shell and admonishing look. "Do you know how difficult it is for me to get time off in the first place? And then I have to travel halfway across this insane landscape to reach you, when you aren't even where you said you'd be! What are you doing up…" she paused, adjusted her glasses, and looked Gideon up and down. "Nevermind."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss?" Gideon gave her a respectful bow. "I am Gideon Rainier."

"A Nord with an Imperial name," she noted, looking him up and down again. Unlike Shell, her gaze was decidedly business-like, taking in his clothing and gear as well as his person. "Well, Gideon Rainier, I don't suppose I need to warn you what will happen if she gets hurt?"

Gideon chuckled for a moment, then gave the woman a good look at his serious face. "No, because I do not intend to hurt her, but cherish her as she should have been all along."

Gazing at him for a long moment like a schoolteacher searching for flaws, she finally turned to Shell and declared, "I want six." Shell laughed merrily.

Gideon looked down to Shell for clarification. "Shell?"

The Breton glanced at the guards, "You did your part. Scram." They both scurried from the room like she'd boxed their ears.

"Blythe, as they call her now," Shell wrinkled her nose at the woman, who rolled her eyes, "is a quartermaster of the Imperial Army in Cyrodiil. She was to be one of my liaisons when I joined. She is still an active Young One." Her eyes sparkled up at him, "And when she orders supplies, she simply tells them the number she wants."

Gideons brows scrunched. "So, she wants…six…of me?" He wasn't sure what to think of that, and then that familiar mischief filled his eyes. "Well, there's the Order of Shor…and then there's my two brothers. Last I heard from them, they were exploring Cyrodiil."

"Well, I'm not about to go look for them," Blythe said tartly. "It was difficult enough getting away this long. As it is, my handler is probably going to inquire where I was."

Shell frowned. "Are you going to be in trouble?" she asked worriedly.

"Oh, please. That man doesn't know which way is up once I start rattling off lists and figures," she rolled her eyes. "He's lost me in the depot for days before this."

"In case you're wondering," Shell whispered loudly to Gideon, "he's not incompetent. That's just Blythe."

"Shell has a point, if you want out, we can get you out. You shouldn't have to squirrel a handler just to stay safe." Gideon stayed right where he was, didn't so much as shift a muscle, but his protective presence suddenly filled the room.

"I'm useful where I am," she shrugged. "And I got used to my job. Even if I do need to hand off news of any unusual requisitions. Along with my normal lists, of course," she said, waving that off as she poured herself some wine.

"In other words," Shell was grinning, "She lets them know they brought in a hundred new swords on page four hundred and fifty, right between the amount of graphite sticks and oats for food rations. And everything else the army needs."

"If they want to know what the Legion is up to, they need to work for it," Blythe groused. "I'm not 'superiorly bred' enough to know what's important anyway. Might as well be thorough!" Gideon outright grinned at her cleverness and cheek.

"The soul hook?" Gideon asked.

"I was dedicated to a Divine long before they put that thing on me," she shrugged. "I don't think it worked. I don't feel the same pull the others describe, anyway."

"You're here, and Erandur knows what to look for, if you'd like to make sure," Gideon offered. "I don't like taking chances with Shell's friends."

"What brought you here, Blythe?" Shell asked, practically seeing the snarky response growing in her friend's mind.

"Hmmm? Oh, not much," she swirled the wine in the cup before taking another sip. "Just a couple of well-hidden documents that needed approval authorizing funding to hire a certain third party to go after another certain third party. I sent it back with orders to be less obfuscated if they wanted actual approval." She glanced up, "Assassinations are not cheap."

Gideon pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a long sigh. "They're trying again already?"

"This was a month ago. I told you, it's difficult for me to get time off. I did send word up, though."

"It's how I knew the twins would be in the Ratway," Shell said.

"Then we need some way for you to get word to us more quickly," Gideon was rubbing his chin now, in thought.

"Sweetheart, if you're a mage too, I will pounce on you. Make more, immediately," she said this last to Shell.

"I'm married to a couple of mages."

"Oh, a poly, huh?" she asked, going to sit down. She set the wine on the small table and pulled out a cloth to clean her glasses.

"Shell, let me see if I can pull Erandur and Mercutio over here. It'll give you a moment with your friend. Blythe, are you hungry, or would you like a sweet of some sort?" Gideon asked, turning his full attention first to Shell, and then to Blythe.

"I would very much like food, but I dislike sweets. Give my share of the sweets to someone that will enjoy them," Blythe said.

"You just became Murril and Blossom's favorite person. I shall personally see to your platter, milady." Gideon bowed to Blythe, kissed Shell long and hard, and went to gather food and spouses.

"Seven," Blythe said. "I want one that does nothing but fetch me food looking all pretty. He can wear an apron."

"Sometimes I wonder about you," Shell teased, walking over to sit in the chair across from her. "So, payments. From whom to whom?" Blythe wouldn't visit just to tell her something she already knew. That meant she had details that would require personal attention. Unless she was just being contrary, which was also likely.

"From someone high enough up to go through one of the many lackey's for hire, who needs more charms than mine—or more gold than mine—to get them to talk, and to a mercenary party that doesn't mind getting their hands dirty with dishonest tactics," Blythe revealed. "One of the groups that sprung up in the vacuum left by the Dark Brotherhood, but reputable enough to pass as mercenaries."

"Well, that explains why they were embarrassingly easy to get rid of," Shell mused. "Er…there is a slight complication."

Blythe's gaze sharpened. "Oh?"

"Some of the former prisoners are here," she gazed at the woman steadily, and Blythe sighed, a shade paler than she'd been.

"I'll deal with it," she said, sipping her wine. "I'll stay at the Inn tonight and make my way back tomorrow. I do hope you'll front me some cart money."

"He's here, Blythe," Shell said bluntly.

"Well, at least he's not dead," she shrugged, glancing away out the window. "Let him think I am, would you?"

It was Shell's turn to sigh, but she dropped it. "Stay a few days. We can get you down quicker than you might expect."

"And here I am with food for the lady, and two rogues for her to consider adding to her collection," Gideon announced their return, in case the ladies needed to wrap up a sensitive talk.

"My Lady Blythe, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Erandur, priest of Mara. Would you like me to ensure there is no hook upon you?" Erandur bowed to her, before taking a seat across from her.

"If you particularly like wasting your time, I'd be delighted," she said dryly, examining them all as she accepted the plate from Gideon.

"Reassuring Shell that a good friend, willing to cross Tamriel for her, won't wind up in the Soul Cairn is never a waste of my time." Erandur was already slipping into Sight, to check her aura for the tell tale of a hook. He breathed a sigh of relief that there wasn't so much as a hint of one.

"I have no friends, only people that aren't too big a pain in the backside," Blythe announced, then glanced at Shell, "But if I haven't strangled this one by this point, I guess that means I'd miss her." Shell wrinkled her nose at her and she lifted her eyebrows.

"Well, your confidence was well placed. I can find no sign of a hook upon you. Now, this dandy here is our spouse Mercutio, and he has an idea, inspired, by all things, the story of Feyfolken."

"Do tell, Dandy Boy," Blythe encouraged dryly, glancing Merc up and down. She worked around too many Imperials to be surprised by them.

Mercutio bowed, he'd been called worse. "Feyfolken was a pen that could write by itself. Well, what if what you wrote in your book at home, could appear in a book Shell had?" Mercutio warmed to his idea.

"Could anyone else read it or see what was written?" she asked instantly.

Mercutio thought it through. "I don't see why it couldn't be keyed to her specifically, and if your book is keyed to you, then only you could see what's written in your book."

"I'll be damned. An Imperial mage with more wit than hair. I like it."

"Don't praise me until I get them enchanted," Mercutio warned. "I can see the spells in my head, and they should work, but 'should' and 'do' are two different things, but I have a few experts I can call in on the job, too. If I'm right, I should have a pair ready to go by next Morndas."

Blythe was silent for a long moment, simply sipping her wine. Shell watched her worriedly, wondering if she'd be willing to wait that long in the city. "Move as fast as you can," she finally said, "I don't have much time."

Mercutio tapped his jaw. "What day do you have to be back by? My um," Mercutio blushed, it still surprised him to say it, "my boyfriend is something of a master portal maker."

"You know," Blythe said, turning back to Shell, "he's so pretty I thought he was one of us, but that transparency of his is adorable."

"If you think that's bad, you should see the three of Dessnia's we just took in," Shell sighed.

"Pah. Teams don't need to know how to mask," Blythe said scathingly. "Well, most of them don't. They just live normally until they're activated. Then they kill everyone, and more often than not, themselves. It's a  _complete_ waste of resources."

Gideon paled. "What?"

"You think she recruits out of orphanages because the finds are so great?" Blythe huffed. "One, perhaps two in every team are actually worth keeping, and the rest are trained to get them out and back to Alinor for reuse. That's it. Think of them like Young One pike fodder."

Mercutio shook his head. "I begin to think Telki was right, these Thalmor lords sold their souls early to the Ideal Masters. They're walking husks."

"And now you know why Talon and I are so worried about our three," Shell said, as if the words were wrung from her. "They might not be here because they wanted to escape."

Gideon, Erandur, and Mercutio shared a long, silent conversation. Gideon was the first to speak. "I'll trust Telki. She's had a long enough look at them, and she's giving them a chance to prove themselves. I've not caught her out yet. Maybe it's Divine providence, maybe it's the surety of her Sight, but I'll trust her judgement just the same."

"I'm going to stay away from them, all the same," Blythe announced. "If any of them are active, they'll report seeing me here."

"Well, we were going to offer you a room with us, but I suppose Ulfric's hospitality will have to do" Erandur offered.

"Inn," Blythe said firmly, setting down her empty goblet. "I'm staying in the inn."

"Will you at least let us cover room and meals?" Mercutio offered.

"Oh, gladly," she gave him a tight smile. "I'm here on quartermaster's pay, after all. My other job doesn't have a salary."

"Then you'll definitely be taking Mercutio up on the portal offer, too, since I doubt quartermaster's pay is enough to get you back home safely, either." Gideon crossed his hefty arms as if that were the final word on the subject.

"As long as it doesn't scramble me in the process," she shrugged. Gideon and Erandur both tried, valiantly, not to snicker, and poor Mercutio could do nothing but hide his face as it flamed red as a tomato.

"No, the trip won't scramble you. Though, well, you'll understand their laughter when you meet Sam."

"Please tell me this isn't the same Sam that inexplicably shows up and gets half a regiment drunk in one night every other month?" Blythe asked "If so, I have a bone to pick with him about the number of bedrolls and supplies I have to replace." Gideon and Erandur howled, falling against each other laughing hysterically.

From the depths of Mercutio's hands and flaming face came a groan that sounded somewhat like "Pretty sure that's him."

"Oh, well, I have a few receipts for him, then. I hope he's good for them."

"Probably. Catch him in a good enough mood, he might even pay them." Mercutio's blush was starting to fade, even as Gideon and Erandur dialed down their laughter.

"Wonderful. Perhaps I'll take up embezzlement along with my other after-work activities," she said, standing and brushing off her hands. "Shell, I'll want to talk to Talon before I leave, but for now I think it's best if I retire to the inn. Since Dandy Boy offered, he may feel free to escort me there and pay for a few nights," she glanced at Merc over her spectacles in a way that suggested she thought he was lacking something, thought it was impossible to say if it were a character flaw or if he had cheese on his face. Shell smirked slightly.

Mercutio, as well as Gideon and Erandur, all stood when she did. "I will happily escort you to Candlehearth, and let Elda know that you'll be staying as the Dragonborn's guest. My lady?" Mercutio presented a courtly arm for her to take, while Gideon passed him her cloak to put on her shoulders.

"I could get used to this," she commented. "Lead on, Dandy Boy."

Never was Mercutio so thankful the inn was placed so close to the Palace. He could still feel his fingers by the time he handed her into the welcome warmth of Candlehearth. "Elda! How are you this evening?"

"Mercutio! Good to see you. We're well, and who is this?" Elda eyed the woman on Mercutio's arm with no little curiosity. The Dragonborn's family was infamous for collecting interesting people.

"I'm nobody," Blythe announced cheerfully. "Well, a pair of glasses and a cloud of hair; that's about it."

Mercutio gave her an odd eye, while answering Elda. "Well, this particular cloud of hair and glasses is staying as our guest. Charge everything to our account, if you please." Mercutio turned to Blythe, wagging a finger at her, "and yes, splurge, we expect it. Afterall, didn't I hear you were on vacation?"

"Unless this inn has a bookstore you just made me fat," she told him wryly. "Feel free to visit me here if you need more information. I think I'll be avoiding that barn of a Palace. Very drafty."

"Oh, if books are your thing, I think we can manage something. You are aware I'm married to a bard, right?"

"A bard that just took in some people I'm actively trying to avoid?" she raised her eyebrows at him.

"The lovely thing about books is that they are portable. I can have Gideon's squire, Haffod, run them over."

"Oh, is he very large and muscular too?" she asked. "I was serious about wanting six of him. I always need help moving boxes around the depot."

"Getting there, he's still a work in progress." Mercutio helped settle her in her room. "Oh good, I was hoping this room was free. So, what should Haffod bring over for your reading pleasure tomorrow? Trust me, ferrying books will be a welcome respite from his usual duties."

"If it makes his eyes droop in boredom, tell him to bring it on over. I'll sort through them," she smiled, setting her bag down and surveying the room. "The depot has mice. I can't tell you how nice it is to be in a room with no mice."

"No cats?" Mercutio asked. "If nothing else, you'd think they'd have avoidance charms in an Imperial Depot." A wiley look later, he added, "Y'know, one of our cats down at the Lakehouse had kittens a few weeks ago. We could send you home with a proper Skyrim mouser."

"Ugh, they make my boss sneeze. He'd rather send urchins through with poisoned cheese and little nets every other week," she rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I'm thinking of just assassinating him without orders to take the place over. Not exactly hostile takeover—I'd be nice about it."

"Couldn't you just send retirement papers through?"

"Old geezer would never go for it," she winced. "He told me he'd retire when he's dead and I completely believe him."

"Yikes. Okay, I better get back before someone comes looking for me. Last thing we need is someone you don't want seeing you coming in here." Mercutio made his bow to her, and left, leaving a hefty deposit with Elda for her stay.

"But I still have change from the last time!" He was already out the door.

"So," Blythe said, coming up and hopping up onto the stool. Nords. This entire country made her feel like a child again, hopping up, craning her neck to see over things… "Heard any rumors lately?"

**.**

* * *

 

**.**

While Telekinesing the bales around was probably way more efficient, there was something satisfying in lugging some of them into place by hand. Maybe it was the tactile contact, or the fresh hay smell, or being able to stand there and feel in her muscles that she had built this. Whatever it was, it meant that while Talon did most of the heavy lifting with Telekinesis, she did the fine tuning by hand, and then clambered atop the tallest spot to get the bird's eye on the finished product. She loved it, and was pretty sure the kids were going to love it too.

It also gave her a bird's eye view on Talon. She knew exactly what that weak-kneed moment meant. She was also smart enough to know Nala wasn't ready to share that with Talon. Given what Telki knew of how relationship-shy Talon was, she had to admit it was probably the wisest course.

But what if Talon wasn't ever going to be ready? The thought really bothered Telki no end. Talon was family, and everyone deserved to have a someone, but what if Talon couldn't recover from what the Thalmor put him through? Then there was Erandur's advice, and would this be following it, or ignoring it? It was enough to give her a headache. Telki slid down the hay bales, and sat there on the last one, worriedly and thoughtfully chewing on a piece of hay while she watched Talon craft the Illusion of a roaring cave troll around one of the pells.

"Is the troll too much?" he asked, glancing back and catching her worried expression. "Will it frighten the younger ones?"

"No, the troll is likely to be the highlight of the whole thing. Blaise will love you forever. That's not what's bugging me. Trying to figure out how to be a good friend without being a worthless snoop where I'm not wanted, that's what's bugging me." Telki viciously bit down on her hay, and had to spit out the end because of it. If anyone said she was pouting, it was totally the hay's fault.

"There is one way to know. Ask," he instructed, knowing this was likely to be uncomfortable, but Telki had done much for him. A few moments of discomfort was a small price to pay for her ending his and the other Young One's servitude, and he found the more he was in her company, the less exhausted he was by other social contact.

"You have to promise not to avoid me after," Telki hedged, making room on the rectangle of dried grass.

He frowned. "This is sure to be interesting," he remarked, dropping his hands to his side and coming to sit on the bale beside her.

"Feelings usually are, and I'm worried about yours. So, if talking about your feelings is going to make you want to run away and avoid me, tell me now so I can shove another haystalk in my mouth and grumble at it instead."

He thought for a long moment. "I am not accustomed to this. I still struggle with not hiding my emotions, though I can see by those around me that I am getting better as time goes on." He'd not been the most demonstrative person to start with, but being given to Faloniril after his original master's death had necessitated stamping out what little he had felt comfortable showing.

"I want to hug your arm, okay?" Telki watched him closely to see if she was pushing too much, making slight grabby hands at it, rather than just grabbing it as she was wont to do. He gave her an odd look and held his arm out, wondering if this was to keep him from running away or simply another example of Telki being extraordinarily tactile.

"Feeling talks requires tactile confirmation that said feelings are safe," Telki told him, as if she had read his mind. The purr, however, was beyond her control. He was very reminded of the little red cat she'd once had herself turned into to prowl around the Spire.

"I am aware," he said. "Despite what most around here seem to believe, I do know how normal people act. It is simply that, for a Young One, those mannerisms are as much a mask as being emotionless. They are not how we respond, and are not second nature as they would be to others."

"And you were stuck there so long, it worries me. I mean, how long until you feel safe enough to actually feel like engaging in normal relationships? I want you happy."

The muscles under her hand tensed slightly, but not visibly. Telki rubbed her cheek against his toned bicep in comfort. "We've been out less than half a year, Telki."

"I know, I'm impatient, and there's really no way for you to tell, is there?" Telki thudded her head into the bale behind her. "I'm sorry. I seem to be saying that a lot lately."

Taking a deep breath, he created a few Illusory birds to harry someone trying to concentrate and sent them hiding in the hay. "Before my original master died, I had friends," he said, watching this. "They were sent off to other masters, as I remained with Faloniril, since I was at his estate at the time making evaluations. Since he was already in possession of me, the other Lords did not fight him overmuch. Faloniril was one of the worst of them. I did not trust the Young Ones there. It has been many decades since I made a new friend, and in those three I pushed away any attempt by others to do so. This is difficult."

"Thank you, Talon. Thank you for your trust, and I hope I never give you cause to regret it." Telki could feel tears spiking her lashes, and blinked them way before Talon could see them. It made her want to personally stomp a mudhole in what was left of Faloniril, never mind he was as miserable as was possible to make a person. The damage he did was incalculable.

"It is because of you and Rommy that I am able to even think about making friends again," he said, looking her over. "I am used to being alone. You are not, and so I try to take cues from you, from your family and how you all act. You are all very open. I do not know if I can ever be so."

Telki snorted. "You don't have to be an open book for every soul to read. I doubt, had you grown up safe and whole like you should have, you would have been the open book I am. Not everyone's made that way. What I want for you is happiness. To know you have people that love you and make you feel safe to be yourself, and I worry it's going to be a long hard road for you to accept all that."

"I don't intend to be an open book," he shuddered with slight horror at the very idea of people knowing what he was thinking that easily. "As to the rest of it, I will get there. I have many options to explore, but I do enjoy teaching. It may be that was where I was meant to be all along."

Telki gave him a teasing smile. "Do I have permission to matchmake at some very distant point in the future, then?"

He went still. "I would prefer if you didn't," he finally said.

"Hey, I'm teasing. Remember the 'want you happy' part of this conversation? But it's nice to know that maybe someday you'll have that sort of a someone." Telki nodded decisively.

"I thought we were not limiting my options," he said, giving her mock-stern look. "What if I wish to retire to a tower full of books and cats?" Something about this conversation was sending off warning instincts, of an entirely different kind than he was used to. Telki knew something, or thought she knew something, and was trying to get something out of him. Whatever it was, he wasn't sure. He contemplated simply asking her and dismissed it.

"Then I reserve the right to help you fill it with books and cats, and come raid your library or play with the kitties on occasion. If that's what makes you happy," Telki looked at him. "Though I really hope there's room in that future for people that already care about you."

"Despite your rather erratic tendencies, I have become fond of most of you," he assured her. Telki graced him with her brightest, happiest smile. "Auriel willing, I have another three or four hundred years to find that tower. I can remain here another fifty or so."

"Hmm, depending on a certain wish that went wonky, you may or may not still be graced with a paladin, and then there's the whole Shivering Isles thing with me, so, who knows who you'll still have around."

"Wish?" he asked, finding himself hoping this were true, for Shell's sake. Long-term man-mer relationships usually ended in sorrow for the elf, and there were few ways around that. The fact that her father might well kill the human that subverted his daughter certainly didn't help matters.

"Yeah, some ring thingy on an adventure before he met us. Still not sure if it were a Clavicus thing or something else, but so far, he's not aged a day since I met him, and he heals really quick."

Talon blinked at her. "I would very much like to examine it," he confessed, not bothering to hide his curiosity, given the current conversation.

Telki giggled. He reminded her so much of Nala with a new spell. "Eh, hang on, I keep it in the keepsake bag I keep with me." Telki dug into her dimensional pocket, produced an old beaten leather bag, and dumped out an assortment of shells, hair locks, buttons, small carvings, and an old signet ring, which she handed to Talon. The rest she carefully and tenderly put back in her pouch, and watched Talon work.

Holding it aloft with Telekinesis, Talon examined the ring. It was somewhat worse for wear. There was a deep sword scar cutting through the top face, obliterating most of the original crest, though a few spots still gleamed dull gold. "I do not see how this would render him immortal," he confessed, narrowing his eyes at it. "It actually seems to be cursed."

"Yeah, I'm much better at Sight than I used to be, so I wasn't sure then. I knew it gave me the heebiejeebies, but since it was Important..." Telki shrugged. "Yet, that's when the change in Gideon supposedly occurred. I don't see anything jarring or curselike in his aura, either. Maybe his paladininess protected him, twisting the curse."

"Gods and oaths are not something I know much of," he confessed. His mother had taught him what little he knew, so he tended not to think on it at all, if possible. "I would not discount it. You should probably carry this wrapped in silk, unless you wish for some of whatever has happened to him to happen to you, as well."

Telki giggled, "I figure whatever is going to happen to me, has happened. But yeah, I don't want bad mojo on my mementos, so, silk it is." She rummaged for a moment before finding a square of silk to tie the signet into. "I should probably show it to Rommy. I know I told him the story one time, but I don't think he quite caught all of it. Maybe I should make a point of it."

Hesitating a moment, Talon finally gave in and asked what had been on his mind for a while now, "Telki, where is Romulus? Why is Murril here without him?"

Telki heaved a heavy sigh, drooping like a wilted flower, and burrowed into Talon's side for comfort. "He's in the Shivering Isles, having a mad meltdown bad enough he forbid me to check on him, and begged me to keep Murril here for safety. I was forbidden to help, it's driving me bonkers, and I miss him."

Eyebrows arching toward his hairline, Talon frowned and awkwardly put an arm around her, patting her shoulder gingerly. "That explains why you're focusing on everyone else, at least," he said.

"Yeah, sorry for the extra attention," Telki mumbled from the vicinity of his ribcage. "It's the only coping mechanism I've got what works worth a toot. I can't be miserable if I'm busy making everyone else happy."

Talon mulled this over. "In that case, I believe Ulfric is planning to court Wemie," he said. "His people all seem to have figured it out already and were being overly courteous to her at breakfast this morning."

"Oh Divines, I better warn her, then. I bet she looked like a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

"At least one guard called her 'milady,'" he informed her, amused. "She jumped." Thinking on this a moment more, he cautioned, "I do not know if I would warn her. Perhaps let her know that there is not some grand joke going at her expense, but I am not sure how Ulfric plans to go about his courtship. You might accidentally upset his plans."

"It's Ulfric. He only has one method: up front and in your face. He's not going to tiptoe around it. Chances are, he's said something already. I'll check as tactfully as I know how."

Surmising this to mean her inquiry was at least going to nod toward subtlety before heading right to blunt but vague, he offered a small smile. "At least this will put to death any more 'Skyrim is for the Nords' incidents amongst the Stormcloaks."

Telki groaned, smacking her free hand over her face. "That was a nightmare," she whined.

"There you two a—" Shell paused, looking them over. "Okay, am I missing something? First hand-holding and now cuddling? Even if you do look adorably awkward," she added to Talon.

"Still not what you think," Talon informed her, giving her an arch look.

"I'm missing Rommy, and he's letting me get him used to human contact again. My dance card for partners is officially full." Telki made grabby hands at Shell, "All hugs are welcome at the moment. Really missing my Rommy."

Sighing a bit, Shell hopped into the arena then maneuvered the course to sit next to Telki. "I draw the line at cuddling with Talon. Man's kicked my ass too many times."

"I so want to play hide and seek with you two. I may come away from it with severe confidence issues, but it'd be worth it to see you in action for fun reasons for a change." Telki cuddled into both sides, their hands wrapped in hers in a tight grip. "So, you were sent to gather us? Whyfor?"

"Nala got dragged off to your sisters' room looking like she needed a rescue, and Blythe wants to talk to Talon," she replied, cuddling the Khajiit. There was never a bad time to cuddle Telki. She'd gladly do more than cuddle Telki, but that wasn't on the table, unfortunately.

"Hmm, well, given what you've told me, Talon, looks like I might get to turn the tables on my loving, but um, bossy? Bossy's a good word, right? Bossy big sister," Telki sighed, and slid off the bale. "So, I guess cuddles session for the nonce is done, since you've a Blythe to meet. Who's Blythe?"

"A Young One in the Imperial Legion," Shell supplied.

"A pain in the posterior, purposefully," Talon groused.

"She lives to please," Shell piped in cheerfully.

"I want to meet her, so much. I mean, she got Talon to nearly say a bad word, just by mentioning her name." Telki sounded a bit star struck, but shook herself out of it. "Right, sister to save. Have fun me darlins. I'll see you as soon as sisters are successfully wrangled." Telki waved and made her way back to the Palace proper.

"Have fun with that," the Bosmer snickered. "Come on, Talon. Time to pit your snark against a miniature Breton witch," she teased. While she had started getting more comfortable around Talon sometime in her last year in Alinor—right around the time she started showing some worrying self-destructive habits, actually—she'd gotten positively cheeky since coming to Skyrim.

Talon wasn't always certain this was a good thing, and gave her an admonishing look. She laughed, and he decided they needed to start sparring again. If she was going to take that attitude, she'd better back it up.

"I know that look," she giggled, "That's your 'I'm about to send you running over the dunes until you can't move' look."

"Indeed," he said, rising to follow her out of the arena.

"It's also," she chuckled, "the look you get whenever dealing with Blythe."

He sighed, relenting, and was silent a while. "You should start sparring again, however," he told her. "You've been using only certain sets of muscles lately. It would be a shame if you allowed the rest to atrophy."

"Owch," she said cheerfully. "Lesson learned. You can kick my ass as an example again. Make me humble. Apparently all the spanking in the world isn't helping."

Pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose and regretting saying anything—Shell had no shame, he swore—he followed her to the inn to learn what pulled the ironically named Young One out of her cubicle. Anu knew it couldn't be anything good.

**.**

* * *

 

**.**

The thundering silence in Wemie's room did not bode well, neither did the stormy expressions on two faces. That they were sitting across from each other, arms folded and lips rolled out in identical poses almost set Telki to laughing. Ama looked as if all she needed was some sort of snack, watching a farce just for her benefit.

"Wow, looks like I got here just in time."

Murril wiggled out of Ama's grasp to go fling herself at Telki. She'd been playing with a little handmirror earlier, making faces at herself in the small, frame piece of bright metal until she'd puffed up her cheeks and reminded herself of the Dutchess. She'd dropped the mirror and hidden with Ama, who had knives, but the Queen was a much better choice if the Dutchess decided to come through the mirror.

The Thundering Silence wasn't helping her much.

Telki scooped her into a snuggly hug and kissed the top of her head." How's my precious girl, huh? Are these two knuckleheads worrying you?" Telki looked the two pouters over. "Seriously, when did I grow up to be the mature one?" The indignant expressions, wide eyes and mouths gaping were utterly worth it. Murril giggled, thinking they looked like the losing side of an Insulting Fish War. "Nope, you listen, something tells me you two have said plenty, and are probably going to regret at least half of it once you both calm down." She turned to Ama, "Am I wrong?"

"Nope." From some hidden pocket, Ama produced a piece of honey nut treat, and popped it in her mouth. "By all means, please continue. I haven't had this much entertainment in months."

Murril wiggled down and ran over to Nala, making little bursty gestures about her head and holding her breath to make her face turn red, then tapped her fingers over her heart rapidly. Then she ran over to Wemie, puffed up her chest and put her hands on her hips, drew in her chin to look bossy, and opened and closed her mouth wide like she was yelling. Her feet were placed shoulder-width apart and she looked like a sargent berating cadets.

"Yeah, that's about what I thought had happened. Thank you Murril. Ama, you got another one of those treats hidden on you for my good little helper here?"

"Who do you think's been helping me with my stash? I'll need a proper refill in the morning. Hope the Chef's up to it. Seriously, he's awesome, a real gourmet." Ama produced another honey nut treat from somewhere, and offered it to Murril. She sat back on the Khajiit's lap to eat it, watching what the Queen would do with interest and hoping it involved a screaming fish.

"So, Wemie, we appreciate the concern, but you are going to have your hands full with your own matters of the heart, and Nala's perfectly capable of managing her own lovelife. We don't get to make those decisions for her."

Wemie's head snapped back. "What do you mean, I've my 'own matters of the heart' to attend?"

"Somebody's interested. Keep your eyes open, and you might even notice. All I'll tell you is it's someone everyone around here respects, so some of that respect and deference is gonna rub off on you. So no snapping at the guards being nice. Okay?"

Wemie opened her mouth, and then closed it, blowing a sigh through her nose. "Alright, I'll apologize to the poor man in the morning." Murril frowned, hopped up, and went over to hug her, then tried to indicate that Wemie was pretty with increasingly vague hand gestures before giving up and cuddling her. Wemie smiled down at her, scooping her up in a big hug. "Thank you, Murril."

"Nala, do you understand the situation you are placing yourself in with Talon?" Telki took a seat next to Nala, worriedly patting her hand before busying her hands with her memento bag. "Because it's not going to be easy, and it's certainly not going to be anything remotely resembling timely. He's been seriously hurt emotionally, and has been alone longer than both of us together have been alive. Are you sure you want to take all that on?" Telki thought that might be understating the case, but it was true as far as she could tell, and she wanted Nala making an informed decision, not scaring her off from something she really wanted. Telki rolled the beaten leather bag between her hands nervously.

Nala thought about it. "I know there's a chance it will probably go nowhere, but there's a chance it might, too. I think he's worth taking that chance."

"Even if he's got to get over someone else first?" Ama piped up. She ducked her head. "I ah, might have noticed the way he watches Fey when the two are in the same room." She hadn't forgotten Talon's preoccupation with the woman, and she really had no way to gauge if he even  _wanted_ to get over Fey.

Nala's head whipped around to Ama. The bottom dropped out of her stomach, tears sprang to her eyes, and her throat closed up on her. Telki could feel a headache start between her eyes, making her rub the bridge of her nose.

Nala rubbed her temples with both hands, and grabbed a fistful of her hair on both sides to keep her from strangling her well meaning but entirely too nosey sisters. "Look, I appreciate that you love me so much you're willing to stick your necks out for me, but stop it. Fey is so in love with Tyr it's not even funny, and it's pretty patent Talon's smart enough to have figured that out. If he's not acted on it yet, he's probably not going to, so maybe, if I present him an option to eating his heart out over the most perfect woman I've ever seen walk Nirn, he might just notice me. Either it'll work, or it won't, but I won't know if I don't try, and for all the negativity and my sorry history with relationships, I think there's something there worth trying for. Okay? Can you all please accept that I am an adult making a decision for myself and  _leave it be?"_

"Well? I'm for respecting my sister's decision, who's with me?" Telki raised her hand in the air, looking at both Wemie and Ama. Ama stuffed a bite of honey nut treat in her mouth and waved her hand in the air.

Wemie rolled her eyes, but nodded assent. Murril raised her hand and nodded wildly. Wemie chuckled, kissing the top of Murril's head again. "Alright, alright, I'll dial it down. Yes, I will respect your decision, but I reserve the right to at least attempt to kick his ass if he hurts you. Okay? Leave a big sister some pride."

Now that The Nala Situation had been addressed, Wemie turned that fatal raised eyebrow on Telki. "Now, just who is this admirer, and why is he so respected even the guards are calling me 'Lady?'"

Telki giggled and rolled back until she thumped her head on the wall behind her, still giggling as she rubbed the pain out. "Nope, not telling. He deserves his chance to catch your notice honestly same as Nala does Talon. Nyeh." Telki even stuck her tongue out at her sister.

Wemie groaned. "It's Ulfric, isn't it?"

"Said I wasn't telling. That includes confirming or denying," Telki sniffed and crossed her legs, nose in the air like some court dandy.

"Wouldn't matter," Wemie sighed, "He probably has to marry for state reasons, or bloodline reasons. I sincerely doubt a yeoman caravan guard would do in either case, and I damn well won't settle for anything less than marriage." Wemie was not expecting the airborne pillow to the face.

"Where did you get such a cockamamie idea? Position here is earned on merit! Not bloodlines. All that folderol got left behind in Cyrodiil." Telki stuck her tongue out at her sister. "So even if it were Ulfric, and I'm not saying it is or isn't, marriage is why you're being courted, so there."

"You are so lucky you're my sister and I love you." Wemie gave her a disgruntled look over Murril's head, stuffing the pillow behind to lean against. No need to mention how thrilled (and perturbed) Telki's admission had left her. She was glad to have the small Altmer to fuss with to hide her reaction, and Murril was more than content to play teddybear for the golden haired Khajiit, and her beaming smile said as much.

"I love you too, Wemie." Telki went to her for a hug, and kissed her fluffy hair.

Nala took the opportunity their snark presented to slip out. Ama saw it, but didn't say anything. She worried she'd done enough damage as it was. Though, she felt Telki was right. If Nala was to make an informed decision, didn't she need all the factors? It still felt awful, though, however she looked at it.

Wemie noticed, and like Ama, felt about an inch high for her reaction. She was worried, felt she had a right to be worried, but it never felt good making her sister hurt. And the drawn brows and spikey eyelashes Nala was sporting said she'd been hurt. Wemie held Murril just a little closer for comfort's sake.

**.**

* * *

 

**.**

Nala ran the hot water to near scalding, threw in some lavender for calm's sake, poured up a tall goblet of spiced wine, and soaked her woes up to her chin. A good soak had proven more than once over the years as a good way to deal with what ailed her emotionally, so why change a good thing? She just ran it a little warmer in IceCube Central. With that thought in mind, she put a warming rune on the floor under her tub. No reason to have to cut it short for the cold, either.

What in the Nine hells? Okay, yes, as her sisters, they had a real stake in her emotional well being. Angry as she was at them, she could admit that much. However, that didn't mean they could cast aspersions on her decision making skills and tell her who it was safe for her love. Or tell her he couldn't love her. That was just wrong. Nala angrily gulped a large swallow of her spiced wine, grumbling into her goblet.

A few grumbles and goblets later, Nala was feeling much better. Afterall, she got her big sister, of all people, to back down! Wemie hardly to never backed down, and since when did Telki get all smart about feelings and stuff? It really felt like her world was flipping on its axis…or it may just be the extra body suddenly in the water with her, splashing water out of the tub to hiss off her rune.

"What in the what?" Nala sputtered.

"They say cat's don't like water, but you sure like wine," Sanguine said, arching an eyebrow at her, then leaning forward through the steam to frown at her. "Have you been crying?"

"Yes, I have, and I'm a striped Khajiit. We've always loved water. Point of fact, many Khajiit do," Nala sniffled, and took another swig of her spiced wine. "Hand me the bottle, would you? I seem to need a refill."

Smirking at her a little, he poured her another glass, pouring himself one as well—though where he got the glass was anyone's guess. "Want to talk about it with old Uncle Sanguine?"

Nala giggled. "Uncle Sanguine, is it? Weren't you trying to get in my pants at one point?" She winced, "Yeah, I'll talk about it, why not?" She took a deep breath, thought better of it, and took a swig instead before talking again. "So, my knees went weak around Talon, and he said something where my everloving sisters heard, and everyone had to have a say in my love life. Thankfully, none of it around Talon, or else it'd be a case of  _what_  love life. Hell, that still might be the case." Nala scooted down, her chin barely above the waterline. "Seems he may be hung up on Fey, and completely out of the game, so to speak."

"Oh, he's definitely hung up on Fey," Sam said cheerfully. "I don't see where that makes a— _hic!_ —difference."

Nala shot up, wagging a finger at him. "SEE! This, this is why you can't understand Mara and keep running afoul of her! The heart's the  _whole point,_ Sam! If he's all tied up with Fey, there's no room for me. There's no one there," Nala started blubbering, "No one there to want to hurt someone when they make me make that face…" At that point, she curled in on herself, nose at the waterline, and silently cried.

"Aw," Sam pouted a little. "Don't take this the way I would normally mean it," he added, moving over to her side of the tub and putting an arm around her, patting her head like a child. Somehow the tub was mysteriously big enough for him to do this. "It's okay. He knows he's not getting anywhere with her. He's known that for years. Talon is just a long-haul kind of— _hic!—_ extremely sexy mer. Falls fast, needs half a century to get over it."

"Do you even have a way to know if I stand a chance?" Nala eventually found her voice, though it was barely a whisper.

"Here, drink," he said, doing what he did best and putting the wine back in her hand. "I can tell you that he finds you very— _hic!_ —attractive, and he likes your company. That last part is just because— _hic!—_ he stays around when you come around."

"What is my life, when the Daedra of Funtimes is my lifecoach?" Nala turned her head on his shoulder. "You're also surprisingly not bad at it. Thank you."

"Well, Merc would get mad if I seduced you," he sighed, then perked up, "Unless you really do just want to scratch that itch, then it'd just be me helping out a friend."

"As adorable as you are, I'm not feeling very seduceable right now. Let's leave it at Uncle Sam being supportive, and for the love of mercy, no poking."

"Oh, come on!" he groused. "You just said you weren't— _hic!—_ seduceable! That's a challenge!"

"It wasn't a challenge, Sam, but an admission to needing hugs and reassurance, rather than come hithers." Nala turned her head to look Sam in the eye. "And wouldn't it be nice if I could tell Merc you were a sweet and supportive friend when I really needed one, without all the seducey stuff?"

"Honestly, it'd be nice to ask Merc if he wanted a threesome, but I guess sweetroll points will do," he sighed, sinking down in the water a little.

"I thought the threesome idea was gaining ground with, wha'sname, Lyd…did, Lydia?" Nala looked at her goblet. Had she really had that many for the tongue tying to start, or did a Daedra happen to her alcohol? "Sam, does alcohol just naturally get more potent around you, or did I really have enough to lose speech priv-lich…uuh speech?"

"Oh, you've been weeping into most of a bottle," he said cheerfully, giving her a little squeeze. "You know, I— _hic!—_ like baths. Normally, someone is riding my lap in a bath, but this soaking thing is nice!"

Nala's jaw cracked on a yawn. "Warm soaks are very good for what ails you. Don't let me drown, hmm? Maybe you c'n introduce Merc to them." She snuggled into his arm, and all but passed out. Who knew? Daedra made good pillows.

Sam looked down at the top of her head in amusement. "You are so drunk," he grinned, putting a smacking kiss on the top of her head. "This all falls through, maybe I'll give you a Dremora for what ails you," he added, picking her up and getting out of the bath. These people were a horrible influence, really. Sam wrapped her in a fluffy towel and laid her on the dressing bench, added a few more fluffy towels so she didn't freeze to death, then went off to see what the new Mr. and Mrs. Ralofs were doing.

**.**

* * *

 

**.**

The animated skeleton acting as a temporary coatrack collapsed in on itself when the Banish spell hit it, the bones disintegrating into dust before vanishing back to Oblivion. Blythe smiled grimly and didn't even turn around from shaking the travel wrinkles from her clothing. "Hello, Talon. Doing well?"

"You summon them for such frivolous things," he chided, walking in and closing the door behind him. Shell had seen Minoena and Hyaril in the common room and told him she'd be in shortly. She had a substantial bet placed in the ongoing pool about if they would snap and strangle each other or run off to the nearest Temple of Mara, and had wanted to go assess if their dynamic had shifted one way or the other. Apparently Blythe had wanted to speak with him alone, anyway.

"Your time as a civilian hasn't mellowed your opinions, I see," she said, folding the quilted dress and turning to look at him. "Though your face has unfrozen somewhat." Glancing him up and down as he gave her an annoyed look, she added, "Given the climate, the irony positively tickles."

"That spirit you subjugated could easily have been mine," he pointed out, watching her spare brows bow upwards as he bothered to explain what he had only once before, the same year he had talked his superiors out of killing her. She'd never forgiven him for that. "It could be a former friend, a victim—"

"Well it's not small enough to be one of my sisters, so what do I care?" she shrugged off-handedly, turning back to her clothing. It was generally considered a bad idea to turn one's back to a Trainer; she'd made a habit of it from the very start. "You know, for a part-Reachman, you're surprisingly intolerant of their traditions."

"Do not bring up my history and I shall not bring up yours, Sorcha," he snapped, watching the flinch she couldn't entirely hide. A low blow, perhaps, but so was touting Necromancy in front of him. Of all the Young Ones living, Blythe was the only one that knew exactly where he came from, because only she had been familiar enough with the layers of bureaucratic coding to find the dossier containing his complete history, and suicidal enough to go read it. Talon, of course, knew exactly where she had come from. He'd been present for the raid.

She halted her task, turning to give him a cool look from behind her spectacles, "You turned me into the very thing I'd been taught to hate," she said softly. "Brought me back from the brink of death to endure a decade of mental twisting, just so they could throw me back to help them undermine the Empire my parents dedicated their lives to, the same one that threw them under the carriage for expedience. If anyone should fear my history, it's not me."

"You know he is here," Talon stated, watching her warily. "If you care so little, why not seek him out?"

"You know why," she said, finally turning away. "At any rate, I didn't ask you to come here just to tweak your sensibilities. I thought, since you did apparently have a heart under there all along, it might just be possible that I had misjudged you. Since I assumed you did it out of some perverted sense of irony, I've never thanked you for healing me all those years ago, and I can't honestly do it now. However, I suppose passing along a warning wouldn't be amiss." She turned, sitting on the bed to examine him. "Wow, a full frown. You have changed."

He sighed, "What exactly do you have to tell me, Blythe?"

"Part of it you must surmise already: They want you back. They want you back badly enough to overlook your coming here in the first place. If you return to them right this moment, you get your old job and pretty much whatever boon you ask for. You take out the Dragonborn before you head off, they might just let you retire one day to boot." She examined every nuance of his still expression, searching for any hint of his thoughts. "Until you do decide to return, you're dangerous. They know you know more about them than any non-Thalmor should. They would rather have you than kill you, however, and the reward for bringing you back in is a Name, and an afterlife. I hope you are vetting your new arrivals  _very_ closely, because some of them will eventually be here specifically to bring you back, and some of them will undoubtedly use some stupid tactics to try."

"And what of you?" he asked lowly. He knew exactly why she was here, but he wondered if she had finally worked through her anger and grief enough to know herself.

She gave him a tight smile, "Bad Talon," she scolded, mocking slightly, "asking questions you already know the answer to. I may be a Young One now, but I was born the daughter of a Blade, and I will do what I was brought up to do. I will fight them until they kill me."


	20. Thy Life's a Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprises abound.
> 
>  
> 
> Image taken in my game, made awesome by Evil is Relative.  
> 

It was much easier getting the children to the Palace the next morning. All four teenage boys helped usher the children out the door, eager to avoid the small whirling atronach that kept hitting them with minor Spark spells. Heron had avoided talking altogether the last few minutes, but it seemed the thing simply disliked Demeus entirely, or else it took gazing in Shell's general direction as good enough to warrant punishment.

Alas for the four of them, Murril fell in love with it and had taken to carrying it everywhere. Shell just sighed and expressed relief that it was leaving adults alone.

They burst into the Great Hall with their usual verve, and Murril released her new friend to zoom about like an angry scamp let out of a bag. It bounced off one guard's foot and electrocuted another before hiding under the table. Murril, who was getting much better with people but still had her shy moments, thought this was a grand idea and joined it.

"Telki, what new chaos have you brought to my Palace?" Ulfric didn't jump, but he was rather grumpy looking at the table, already loaded with all the usual breakfast delights, and was attempting to lure Murril out of hiding with a fresh sweetroll.

"Um, surprise, it's a chastity minitronach?" Telki flushed. "Apparently, there was enough wild magic loose in the house, it took a fancy to a rune Nala and Talon were creating, and there it is? Murril's adopted it."

"Of course she has." Ulfric smiled down at the little girl, who seemed fascinated by his wolf pelt coat. "Eh? This old thing? We might can find one in your size, if you like it."

Murril reached out and made grabby hands like the Queen did when she wanted something.

"You'd have to come out to put in on, little one." Ulfric took his coat off, shaking it out to put on her.

Murril considered this, crawled out, and let him put it on her before crawling back under the table, pulling the atronach in her lap. She wanted to call it Sparkles. She had no idea how to tell people this.

Ulfric could do nothing but laugh. She'd absconded with his coat under the very table he was trying to lure her out of. He had to give her cleverness due props.

A pair of brightly pink and orange illusory butterflies flitted about the girl's head, making her freeze a moment. She watched them with wide green eyes, tilting her head. When they flew out from under the table, she shrieked a laugh and followed them, nearly tripping over Ulfric's coat as she raced about the room like an otter, flowing over and around furniture to try to catch them, trailed by the small atronach.

Sura smiled, her fingers twitching as she controlled the butterflies from her seat at the table, looking a little like a fairy princess in the dress Telki had found for her today, but keeping the purple Cyrodiilic coat. Her color was high and her eyes sparkled as Sofie and Frankie decided to join in the game.

Telki watched Sura play with the children with a little catch in her chest. Here was her little foundling, looking happy, relaxed, and well enough to play with the children. She was awed by Sura's resilience, but it would be disingenuous to say she didn't feel a little pride in helping her get to this point. She sat back, watched her children, and let her eyes sparkle happily for her babies. It may have required snagging a husband to sit on and two more to cuddle to do it properly, but it needed doing.

"So," Shell began, sidling up to Lydia, "Do we plop ourselves on the ends or cuddle each other?"

"I have it on good authority that both Erandur and Merc make comfortable chairs, but I'm good with cuddling, too. Your call." Lydia smiled through her blush. As far as dilemmas went, it wasn't a bad one.

Shell lightly pushed her onto the end of the bench and cuddled up against her side. Since she was much shorter than Lydia, she fit quite nicely.

"Nah, let's do this the right way." Lydia pulled Shell into her lap. "I also have it on authority you're never warm enough."

"Anu bless Nords," Shell sighed happily. "Quit staring, Demeus," she added without looking. The boy jumped and looked away, flushing, until the atronach abandoned the butterfly chase to chase him around the room.

The butterflies vanished in a little flash of sparkles as Sura lost her concentration laughing. Murril looked over at her and pouted, then caught the atronach, gave Demeus a look like it was all his fault, and went to sit between the cuddling adults, looking hopefully up to Erandur for cuddles, who happily scooped her up in the arm Telki didn't have trapped.

"So, what's on the agenda for today, Ulfie?" Telki caught the dropped jaws on three faces. "Yes, I get to call him that, you don't. If you can't bring yourself to call him Uncle, you call him Your Majesty or Jarl Ulfric, both are acceptable in Windhelm."

Ulfric raised a hand over the loaded table. "I thought breakfast might be a good place to start?"

"I hope the coffee is done," Fey interjected from the door, dragging Tyr, who, now that he was able to return to sleeping in a proper bed rather than hard ground, had returned to his former habits of wanting to sleep past noon. Fey, a morning person, tended to drag him out much too soon. Blossom was knuckling her eyes, Pearl looked as calm and awake as her mother, and Orien was positively bouncing, even if there were yawns every once in awhile.

Blossom trudged right over to Shell and Lydia, pulled herself onto their combined lap, and fell asleep on them both without word or fanfare. Pearl sat herself down near the empty places the others would take, not even sighing when Francois hopped up next to her to gaze up at her adoringly.

"There is a carafe there on the sideboard, my Lady Fey."

"Just Fey, Ulfric," she smiled at him slightly, pushing Tyr down at the table where he looked off into space, barely reacting as she placed a steaming mug in his hands, and giving a little grunt when she kissed his cheek. Her eyes sparkled with repressed laughter as she lifted his arm to guide the coffee to his mouth. He took over when the smell hit his nose.

"So, is it a Nord thing, or just a Tyr and Gideon thing?" Telki asked. "This one is a mindless draugr before bacon."

Fey glanced up to where Gideon was still somewhat groggy eyed despite having been enticed out of bed by a bit of bacon and coffee. Telki and Shell had nearly laughed themselves sick guiding his stumbling self through the city to the Palace. Being a Nord, even the bracing cold didn't faze him. "I can tell," she chuckled a bit before going to make herself some tea.

Orien looked around before he was claimed by a sneaking Ama. He yelped happily, squirming around in her arms to give her a morning hug. "Ama!" he cried, "You scared me!"

"Nooo, I surprised you. Giggles do not happen when scared." Ama tickled the little boy with belly raspberries. His laughter made some of the less responsible guards wince in their helmets. Ama happily ensconced the little giggling fiend in her lap at the table, making sure there were two nice and warm sweetrolls on his plate. Pearl, ever responsible, slid some eggs scrambled with cheese on there next to them.

"Where's Nala?" she asked, her flyaway hair creating a halo of pale yellow around her head. Fey hadn't helped her braid it this morning, and she'd not wanted to bother doing it herself. She regretted it slightly as she blew a few strands off her eyes.

"Hmmm, behind you. Wondering where on Nirn to start with this halo on your head. It's so pretty, I kinda don't want to, but then, magic and flyaway hair don't mix, either." Nala petted the fine, silky strands floating about Pearl's head.

"Tie a napkin over it and call it done?" Pearl, never one to be fussy about her appearance, suggested. She leaned back to smile at Nala, then frowned. "Are you alright? You look like you barely slept last night."

"Then I look appropriate to the night I spent. No worries, grownup stuff, I'll deal." Nala studied her hair. "How about a simple Breton braid down the back? It'll keep the flyaway to a minimum, look nice and not like you gave up on it."

"Oh, good. Wouldn't want people to figure that out," Pearl said with some humor. "I can talk about grown-up stuff, you know. I don't exactly like boys, but I understand a lot of that stuff."

"You sound like you've spent too much time around Wemie, quit it. It scares me. Eh, I know you're much older than you look, but, this is stuff I have to deal, and there's too many ears around, 'kay? I'll share later and you can tell me what an idiot I'm being, too." Nala winced at her own words, her hands quickly taming the flyaway locks into a semblance of a braid down Pearl's back, tying it off with a bit of ribbon from her own robes. "There, lovely, neat, and out of your way for the rest of the day. You can thank all the times I tamed Telki's curls for it."

"Thank you," Pearl said, raising a hand to run over the braid. "I'm thinking about letting it grow really long. It seems less floaty now than when I had it shorter, and I'm hoping that it'll get long enough I can always have it bound. Short strands tend to escape." She wondered if her father had this problem, because her mother certainly didn't. Still, the idea that there was a Thalmor somewhere with this problematic hair gave her a bit of a chuckle.

"Longer means more weight, less fly, so you might be onto something." Nala sat down at table on the other side of Francois. "Well hello little heartbreaker. What mischief are you getting into today?"

"Hoping Mister Tyr will let us visit his mammoth friend." Francois turned big pleading blue eyes on Tyr. "Please? We've waited very patiently."

Tyr, not awake yet in the least, mumbled something and nodded. Fey sighed, but no longer had to go through calming exercises when this sort of thing happened. She did mentally prepare herself for casting a multitude of Calm spells.

"Can I do your hair, Muffin?" Sam asked, sliding into the seat beside Merc liked he'd been there all along. "I have no idea how to—hic!—do hair, but I can run my fingers through it. Maybe tug it a little."

"Sam!" Merc couldn't hide the happiness on his face. "When'd you get back?" Telki let his arm go so he could hug him, and both Gideon and Erandur slid down enough to make room.

The greeting Sam gave him barely acknowledged the children in the room and had some of the guards blushing. Heron tilted his head and took notes while Demeus turned bright red. "Got in last night. I was going to see you, but you were busy, so I consoled a weepy Khajiit—platonically, of all insane things—and dropped off my gift to the newlyweds."

"Can Ralof walk?" Shell asked archly, her eyes flicking back from Nala's red face. No need to ask who the weepy Khajiit was. She was, however, mildly curious as to why she had been weepy, as well as what the Daedra of Debauchery considered "platonic."

"You did a nice without getting hinky at all? Sam, I'm so proud of you. I'd kiss you, but you'd take it way too far." Telki practically beamed at him.

"I would," he grinned, snagging a mead that may or may not have been placed on the table already, hidden in the fruit bowl. "I really would."

"Still proud, still not kissing, but I thought about it." Telki tossed him a sweetroll.

"Eh, Rommy would kill me," he said, catching it, then going quiet a moment. He actually tore off a piece of the roll and ate it, before offering to feed the rest of it to Merc in small bites. The lowered lashes look Merc gave him promised Sam that he would be showing him precisely how much he was missed the moment they could decently leave the table.

"How is he?" Telki asked softly, suddenly clutching two arms to her tightly again. Neither Gideon nor Erandur seemed particularly hampered by Telki's clinging, and continued their breakfast.

"Er…trick question," Sam shifted uncomfortably. "He's not himself at the moment, so he can't really be well or—hic!—unwell. He's full Sheo. Last I checked the Dutchess was having a ball and he'd decided the best thing to do there is put the guests in a large hallway with a giant boulder rolling through it. Lot's of paranoid depressive types gluing themselves to the wall. Some of them were still trying to dance. Got a little messy."

Telki curled a little further into both Gideon and Erandur's side. "Oh." She had a feeling that was going to join his growing list of 'reasons I'm too dangerous' she'd have to talk him around yet again.

"No one died," he added hastily, taking in her expression. "Not permanently, anyway. He still has that much of him left."

"I want to help, but he can't bring himself to let me, and then hearing things like that makes me doubt myself, and I get mad because it makes me feel like I'm losing faith in him by doubting. I hate it, I want to fix it, but I have no idea how."

"Don't look at me. The last time he was this bad Martin showed up and we had a minor Dragon—hic!—Break. Luckily, nothing major was happening at the time and no one seemed to—hic!—notice," Sam rubbed the back of his head and sighed.

"No, not Martin, but…what about someone else who has a vested interest in Rommy not losing himself?" Telki was tapping her teeth.

"Been looking for him, actually. He's somewhere bouncing around Nirn," now Sam really sounded worried, and he swallowed the entire contents of the bottle before he put it down.

"Jyggy's bouncing around Nirn? Whatever for?"

"If I knew—hic!—that, I'd be bitching at him," Sam grumbled. "And I don't go out of my—hic!—way to bitch at anybody. Not fun."

"Hmm, you people have this under control long enough for me to go try something stupid? Good! Back in a bit." Telki passed kisses out, even kissing Lydia and Shell on the foreheads, and giving Ulfric a good solid hug (Nords were generally good at hugs, and he was the uberNord, so they were ubergood), and blew a kiss to Sam from the safety of the great doors before bouncing them open with her hip.

On the outskirts of town, safe from prying eyes, Telki started her summoning song. "Where oh where oh where is Jyggy? Where, oh where, oh where is Jyggy? I need, I need to speak to Jyggy, please come talk to me." She waited, tapping her foot. "Jyggalag, you're entirely too orderly and smart not to know I want to talk to you, and given my inherent chaotic nature, and how I can really throw kinks in plans, it really does behoove you to talk to me, so please, show up, tell me what's up, and let's go from there so I don't mess your plans up too much, hey?"

A little fluttering sound, then a piece of white parchment floated down toward her out of the sky. "Really, Jyggy? This is not how you keep me out of your hair!" She huffed, and checked the parchment, onto which two sentences were tersely etched out in a precise script, the black ink harsh against the stark white of the thick velum.

"There is a meeting of the Elder Council in a fortnight. The two Dragonborn must attend."

"That would be easier to do if Rommy were not having a full Sheo meltdown. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about."

As if written by invisible ink, the writing faded, the letters reforming from the white vellum to state, starkly, "He will be there."

Telki curled up in a ball, tucked into her cloak, the parchment on her knees. "I need him here, though." She didn't say it aloud, but barely whispered to herself. Staring at the parchment, as if she could see whatever Jyggalag was up to through it, she thought of what she needed to ask Jyggalag, since he was kind enough to respond, even if it were by message. "Will I be able to use this parchment to keep in touch with you? Sam says you're all over Nirn, and given what I know of some things, there's a handy chance I'd even be willing to help. Mostly, though, I want to help Rommy with the lovely curse you left him. How do I help?"

Letters bled out then back in. "Use Sanguine's Portals. Don't drink. Eat well. Go inside and warm up."

"Jyggalag, that makes no sense. What even?" All the letters vanished except the last sentence. Telki bent her head to her knees and sighed deeply. "And I thought Sam was difficult. Fine, fine, I'm going back in." She heaved another sigh, and made her way slowly and droopily back to the castle. Many pairs of curious eyes raised to her in query when she came in.

"Yes, I got in touch; other than an Elder Council in two weeks time we need to crash, not a lot of helping hints from him." She wrinkled her nose at the paper, "And why on Nirn would I need to watch what I'm drinking?"

Sam frowned at her, and as she went to walk by them grabbed her by the hips, staring at them and shifting her back and forth.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Erandur asked blandly, while Gideon was already half out of his seat ready to wrap meaty hands around a handsy Daedra. Merc was watching Sam with a puzzled and dismayed expression.

"Sam?"

"Bean," he said, squinting at her like he was really interested in the embroidery on her shirt.

"Bean? Sam, that makes about as much sense as Jyggy's instructions."

"Well, it explains why he said not to—hic!— drink. Damn, but you're not going to be able to—hic!—brew for a while, either! Fumes are bad for the bean!" He pouted, still staring at her and wiggling her hips.

"Bad for the be—baby?" Telki stared at Sam in astonishment. "I'm expecting a baby?"

"It's cute," he said, squinting at her a bit harder. "Like a little person-bean. With a tail. It likes its tail."

"I'm not exactly sure how I feel about Sam being able to stare through our wife at our baby." Gideon shook his head, "I think I need a drink." He jumped when Sam reached out one hand without looking and fermented the juice in his cup, then returned to the task at hand: Squinting at Telki's midsection.

Shell was staring at Telki with a completely poleaxed expression. "Baby?" she asked, then glanced at Lydia, "Does that make us also mothers, aunts, or confused?"

"Baby!" Lydia confirmed, smiling hugely. She considered Shell's question and then shrugged. "Take your pick. I'm going for Momma Lyds."

Fey had hurried over and guided Telki into a chair, "Do you need anything?" she asked. Tyr smiled at her and propped his chin on his hand.

"My feet, I think I lost them about five minutes ago." Telki was feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment. Rommy was still stuck in Sheomode. No drinking. A baby. Had to get to Cyrodiil to break up the old fogey meeting. A baby. She was having a baby. Holy hep cats SHE WAS HAVING A BABY! Telki suddenly found breathing a bit beyond her. Fey crouched next to her, pressed a glass of water into her hands, and started casting Calm while rubbing Telki's back.

Tyr was laughing a bit as he watched Telki's husbands dither and panic. He knew that feeling. "Erandur," he called, knowing they'd respond better to their names than simply a generic term, "Gideon, Merc; for a group that cuddles so much, you seem to have forgotten your favorite hobby. Congratulations on the little one."

Erandur shook himself out of it. "Thank you, Tyr. Gideon, that cloak she's in is soaking. Go get her purple one from our room."

"I can dry it!" Sura jumped up, overbalanced on her ankle, and had to be caught by Alesan, who also looked somewhat shocked. Using him to hobble over, she drew all the water from the cloak, beading it up along the outside of the cloth to run in rivulets as if it had hit stone or glass, making a puddle on the floor.

Gideon gently lifted her off the chair, and then sat her in his lap, just like always. Erandur and Merc pulled up chairs so she could grab her favorite arms. Sam sighed in resignation that Merc wouldn't be paying much attention to him for a while, but really couldn't begrudge him, given the circumstances. Still, there was a very pretty new person around, currently hiding behind Alesan and giving him a suspicious look.

Telki looked up out of her daze for just a bit to give Sam a small smile. "Just think, you get to play 'Uncle Sam' to the hilt this time around."

"Can I draw the line at diapers?" he wrinkled his nose, looking away from Sura. Cute little thing, but she had a few years to go before she was very interesting, though he could already tell she would be very interesting.

Telki chuckled weakly, "Yes, you can draw the line at diapers."

Sam sighed in relief. "Well, Muffin, now you finally have a reason to work out that kin spell. In a few more days, it'll be big enough to see the light, even. Find out if you, or Erandur, or Treenord are the father."

The three men looked between themselves. "Uh?"

"Really guys? I tell you, it certainly won't be hard to tell paternity once baby gets here, might as well figure out who has the bragging rights." Telki snickered from her perch. "And really, you're all gonna love him or her once she or he gets here, so why not?"

"Before anyone asks," Sam interjected, "there is nothing Daedric about Bean."

"Oh look, Baby already has a nickname. Sam, I adore you." Telki was feeling a bit loopy. Even she could only take so many emotional shifts in such a short span, and she was feeling decidedly overwhelmed. "Okay, I'm bushed. I demand a nap, preferably with cuddle company."

"I suppose we all can babysit for the morning," Tyr offered, sitting up and looking around, "If Ulfric doesn't mind us turning his palace into a playground for a few hours."

Ulfric gave them a long look, the smile at his mouth not quite hiding. "If I am not mistaken, an actual playground needs finishing in what was our practice ring. Of course you are welcome."

"Oooh! This would be a good time for that. I'll go get Talon!" Nala scurried out of the room before anyone could naysay her.

.

 

.

Talon, since his usual place to practice was filled with, essentially, a playground, had gone for a bit of a walk around the areas of the Palace, and had found himself among some of the newer recruits into the Stormcloaks. It was a rather enlightening experience, since this particular rash of youngsters were just old enough and trained enough to think they were competent, and young enough to think themselves both immortal and smarter than their elders.

Additionally, and not unusually for Skyrim, they weren't too keen on Altmer. Listening to them a bit, he wondered if some of what he heard was youthful bragging, or if Ulfric had a man-shaped cesspool in charge of some of his army. Once the captain had come in, the looks and jeering remarks had ended, but he'd stayed, watching them.

He wondered how much of a rude awakening Ulfric would allow him to give them.

"Talon! Talontalontalon!" Nala came rushing up to him, sending the talk skittering. She had that particularly bright-eyed look she only got when extremely happy, eyes all but glowing with it, and her cheeks were flushed slightly pink. A few of the recruits were giving her rather lewd looks. He considered firing lightning at them.

He nodded to her, "Lady Nala," he said, mostly for the recruits' benefit. A few of them look surprised.

She didn't appear to notice any of the byplay. "Talon, come ooon, I have news! So much news, and you're still standing here!" Nala brashly grabbed an arm and tugged, trying to get him moving in the appropriate direction. Never was her relation to Telki more apparent than when in the throws of her enthusiasm.

He smiled slightly, allowing her to tug him toward the Palace and giving the captain a nod as they passed. Some mutters as they left probably shouldn't be repeated, but he filed them away for later. "Do I even want to know?" he asked her dryly once they were out of earshot, pulling back slightly to even out her pace as people looked at them askance.

"My sister is pregnant! Can you believe it? I mean, yeah, I've got nieces and nephews now, but a baby! One could potentially look like me…woah, head rush," Nala stopped suddenly. "My sister is carrying a baby! Holy hepcats, how am I going to keep her safe?"

Slightly worried she was dizzy again, Talon held her arm a little firmer. "Nala, Telki has three husbands, is engaged to a Daedric Prince, adopted another Daedric Prince as a sort of brother figure, is an acknowledged friend to the throne of Skyrim as well as a personal friend of the King, can call on dragons, and can breathe fire. I think the baby will be fine. Perhaps not exactly well-adjusted in some respects, but fine."

"All of which makes her as much of a target as it makes her safe, and really, sibling feelings of duty and inadequacy do not take notice of your silly logic. They tend to run counter to that sort of rational and intelligent behavior. Give me a moment to panic, and then I'll tuck it away again." Nala took a deep breath, drawing in as much air as her lungs could take before letting it back out slowly. "Yes, she's pretty protected, but she's my sister, carrying my niece or nephew, that's big news, and a whole host of worries of its own, y'know?" Nala nudged Talon with her elbow. "This is the part where you tell me this is nothing new under the sun, and everything will turn out alright anyways. That's how this reassurance thing works."

"Ah," he thought a moment. "Worst case scenario, the child is Romulus's and we all go insane, Red Mountain erupts again, and we all watch as Alduin and Numidium war over who gets to kill us."

Nala laughed so hard she had to lean against Talon for support. Once the giggles died down, she decided to do some reassuring of her own. "Sam says no Daedric energies, which I think rules Rommy out, but you should see the three contenders left panicking. Have you ever seen a Dunmer panic? It's priceless." Nala realized she was still tucked up against Talon, and the man smelled entirely too good for her own good, and reluctantly drew away. "Um, thank you for letting me lean on you. You're a very comforting leaning post."

"Well, you have a distressing tendency to fall down," he reminded her, gently leading her forward. "I shall add this to my list of accolades, right after 'gives good chin scritches.'"

"Now that sounds like a Telki thing," Nala smiled at him, "Is there a story to go with it?"

"I was walking into the Spire when a cat fell on me out of a clear sky," he said. "Since she was paralyzed and, as I just mentioned, a cat, I took her back to my room to see if she had any injuries, and to see if she were the mother of the kittens Pearl had been taking care of. She ran off with Blossom later and, according to Blossom, proceeded to help her heal a dragon and fall asleep on Shell."

Nala laughed, "That explains so much, just wait 'til I tell Wemie and Ama. We thought we were going to have to warn Blossom about calling Khajiits 'kitties.' She meant Telki'd been turned into an actual cat! Oh my gracious!"

"She was an Alfiq, though I am fairly certain Blossom would march up to a Senche-raht and call it 'kitty,' complete with expectation to cuddle," he gave her a small, amused smile. Apparently, her good humor was infectious. Telki having an infant at this point was a little more worrisome. He sincerely hoped they could settle their current affairs before she got too far along, or thing could become rather problematic.

Nala thought about that and shuddered. "I can only imagine. Though, given her ability to charm, she just might get that cuddle. Orien would be claimed as a clan cub before he could open his mouth."

"That child can out-charm Heron," Talon said, opening the door to the Palace for her.

"So, going to help plan the defenses? I hear Gideon was discussing hiring armored trolls. Mercutio's drafting a ladderlocks tower for the lakehouse."

Talon gave her a look practically brimming (for him) with puzzlement, "Whyever for?"

Nala gave Talon a matching puzzled look. "Because the kids are getting to that age where they're discovering the fun the differences between boys and girls could be, without the equivalent judgement to tell a good idea from a bad idea? Hormones and decision-making centers do not necessarily develop at the same speed. No, they are probably not going to actually get trolls or make towers, but they're worried for their kids."

"Ah." He thought about this a few moments. "In Alinor, the Thalmor recruits were kept separate and too busy to move much afterwards, and the ones that managed to get themselves into trouble were sent away. The Young Ones were apprenticed out at that age, and more preoccupied with not dying than romance. I won't say this was always the case, but it is difficult to hide such things from a Trainer, and it was a sure way to get the less competent one of the pair killed."

Nala gave him a slightly heartbroken look. "The more I hear about this Young Ones thing, the more I wonder at you and the others, to have survived that…No wonder Telki's bent to wipe them off the map."

"I apologize if I've upset you. I am merely trying to illustrate that I have little experience in such matters. The best I can do is run them into the ground," he explained.

Nala turned, cupping Talon's face with both hands, giving him as serious a look as she ever gave a puzzling spell. "Hear me, Talon, and take this to heart if you never take another word I say seriously. You owe me no apologies. You owe apologies to no person on all of Nirn for the hell you survived. If anything, you are owed apologies from every soul that ever knew of your situation, and left you there so long. Don't ever apologize to me for the pain you've been through. It's wrong on so many levels I can't count them all."

He stared down at her a moment, lips parting slightly in honest surprise before he smiled, a small crooked smile he hadn't really shown before. "Thank you, Nala," he said, brushing the back of one of her hands lightly. "I sometimes forget you are not as delicate as you look."

"Oh me." Nala blinked rapidly, that crooked smile and the caress doing more damage to her heart than she cared to think about. Apparently, it was more than her poor knees could take, and she had to lean in on Talon's rather firm chest. Not that she minded, but Talon might. The mer smelled entirely too good, and hearing that lovely heart of his thumping under her ear? She may or may not have squeaked.

"There you go again," he sighed with amusement, a slight, concerned frown creasing his brow for all that. "Have you seen a healer for this?" he asked, holding her steady a moment.

"My sister's having a baby, and you gave me a real smile. Yeah, I'm a bit affected," Nala groused.

"Does no one in this place believe I have a sense of humor?" he sighed, reaching down and lifting her, carrying her to a bench to set her down.

"You misunderstand," Nala snuggled into his shoulder for the short ride to the bench, her heart set to beat right out of her chest, "It's the trust you place in us to share them at all."

"I have yet to see anyone here prepared to use them against me," he said simply, placing her carefully and kneeling next to her to look her over, taking her hand to check her pulse. It was a little faster than he liked.

"Talon, you've gone from a situation where you were afraid to personalize your room to where you can honest to Divines smile. That's no small thing. Don't try to belittle it, please."

He almost laughed, imagining their reactions if they realized just how much he actually had personalized that room. Adding a false wall so that he could sleep securely certainly counted. "Perhaps I simply have spartan decorating tastes?" he suggested, releasing her hand and simply looking at her. Her color seemed fine, as well, if a little flushed from the cold. Perhaps it was a blood pressure thing?

"You hid your bed from prying eyes. Not the actions of a trusting soul, and Divines above, what would have happened to you if you had been?" Nala's lip trembled at that horrid idea. She might never have met him, he could have wound up stuck in the Soul Cairn, another enchantment for some unholy purpose…she had to take a deep breath and let it out slowly again. "So yes, from where we sit, you allowing yourself to smile is worth celebration. Feel free to laugh at us, we're still gonna cherish 'em and make googoo eyes when you do."

His eyes were rather sad, though her phrasing did tease another half grin out of him, "You are correct; trusting souls did not last long. I thank the gods daily that Telki, and now you, were never born or brought into such a situation. You have the capacity for such goodness, and it would have been snuffed out as early as possible. We may never know what damage was wrought through destroying such people."

Nala smiled at him, "And how remarkable must that make you, oh rescuer of felines in distress, that you did survive that, and still have all that capability for goodness?"

"Lucky," he told her, "It makes me lucky, and it took no small amount of hard work, and doing things that I barely want to think about." His face was very serious. "I do not consider it any mark of virtue that I survived. I compromised more than I ever thought I would in order to do so."

"Talon," Nala's hands were on his face again, so he couldn't hide or run, but had to see the truth shining in deep blue eyes. "You are remarkable. You survived them, and you are still capable of smiles, jokes, and love. That is because you, sweet mer, are so much more than you think you are. You survived because of who you are, inside and out, nothing more, nothing less. It was you who determined you'd survive. Not luck, but you."

"Nala," he started after a long moment, surprised. At length, he dropped his gaze. "You give me too much credit," he finally said, reaching up and gently removing her hands, setting them in her lap. Collecting himself, he rose, and offered her a hand. "Are you able to rise, now?" he asked, purposefully interjecting a slight hint of teasing into his voice.

"Yes, I think so. Oh boy, the kids may have already started tearing into the maze, we took so long." Nala worriedly chewed a nail, and let him pull her up, fussily shaking out her robes and smoothing the wrinkles free. "Alright, let's go. Your charges await."

"Is there any chance they ran it one at a time, or should I expect a smoking haypile when we arrive?" he inquired, tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow in case she felt dizzy again. Her pulse still seemed too quick under his light fingers. Then again, his own felt a bit harder than normal. He would examine his reaction later. At the moment, he had other things to attend to.

"Well, Shell was there, so there's a chance she made them wait. Would it be quicker just to toss me over a shoulder and run for it?" she dared tease.

"I do not tend to run unless there is an emergency," he told her, his eyes scanning the hall ahead of them. "Otherwise, people tend to assume there is one in any case."

"Blaise."

"Does not technically count as an emergency when he is at least partially supervised," Talon informed her, then paused, "I do hope Shell is not his only supervision?"

"I don't think so? Everyone was at the table when Sam dropped the baby bomb on us. So Fey could be there, Lydia's probably there. I have no idea how many husbands Telki required for her naptime cuddlepile; probably all three."

"Good. In some ways, Blaise is a less restrained version of Shell herself as a child. I would hate to see what she let him get away with," he gave a little shudder for her benefit.

"Have you heard any of the stories? We are talking about a kid who not only tried to ride an armored troll, but was caught sneaking back in, because he thought he'd figured out what he did wrong the first time!" Nala shuddered right along with him, for more than one reason. The stories they'd been told of that boy made their own childhood shenanigans look like sedate walks in the garden. "This makes me wonder what sort of mischief Shell is capable of engendering."

"She kept the Young One's magic teacher believing she was bedeviled by unbound scamps for six months," he informed her. "This included painting half the appropriate runes around the Spire and leaving monkey dung in the woman's bed."

Nala laughed until she wheezed. "And managed it for six months? Now that's dedication. Remind me I want on her team in a prank war."

"Ask her about the laughing potion at some point," he said, giving her a sideways grin before resolutely putting his eyes forward again.

"Hmm, I know something I want to hear more than that," Nala smiled up at him, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Dare I ask?" he ventured, ears detecting young laughter further in, thought not, thankfully, from the direction of the arena.

"Oh, well, if it's too much to bear, I'll just finagle it some other way. I'm sure Telki and Shell would be more than glad to help." An impish grin bloomed on her mouth, spreading until even her eyes crinkled with mischievous glee.

He glanced at her, then paused, studying her for a long moment. "Ask," he managed.

The mischief morphed into something soft and melting. "Your laugh."

"What of it?" he asked, confused.

"One day, I will hear it ring loud and merry, for the sheer joy of it," Nala solemnly promised.

"Perhaps," he finally said, after a long moment of silence. "You have the oddest preoccupations," he added, starting out again, heading toward the inner courtyard. It was time for him to see exactly what Telki's children could do.


	21. And Nature Must Obey Necessity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the kids run the adventure maze and Telki and Tyr get some bad news. 
> 
>  
> 
> Taken Sir-Douglas-of-Fir , made awesome with the help of Evil-is-Relative, who is indescribably wonderful and talented and totally not tooting her own horn while posting the next chapter of this fic for Wynni while her computer's out of commission.   
> 

 

Telki cuddled into the warm cocoon she found herself in, letting her sleepy mind slowly catalog her environs. The comforting smell of her husbands surrounded her, so she allowed herself to drift back to reality languidly. Gideon's scent always made her think of frosty winter mornings in a pinewood. Erandur's scent was musky and earthy, like nothing she knew until that trip to Raven Rock, mixed with snowberry. Mercutio always smelled of his favorite Colovian cologne, even after being out in the wilds for a month. The only smells missing to complete 'home' were baking scones and Lydia's light fragrance.

For half a moment, with just the three of them, she wondered if they were on the road again. Afterall, that's what just their scents usually meant, but she felt the soft sheets, there was an honest to goodness pillow under her elbow, and she could hear the wind whistling about the eaves. They weren't on the road, then, but if they were home, wouldn't the kids be shrieking the housebeams down in some game or other? Telki drowsily opened one eye and raised her head slightly.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Telki dropped her heavy head back on Gideon's thick chest. The slight "oof" was quite satisfying. She was too sleepy to deal with his brand of humor.

"Nope, not ready," Telki wiggled in, decidedly wrapping one leg around Mercutio's and hooking Erandur's arm for good measure. "Try again a week from next Morndas, maybe then."

A warm hand slid blissfully up and down her back, even as Gideon bounced her with his laughter. Mercutio's smooth voice tried to cajole her the rest of the way to wakefulness. "I thought you wanted to see how the kids liked that maze in the practice pit."

"They're doing that  _today?"_  It wasn't a whine, exactly.

"They're probably doing it right now." Erandur's quiet smugness garnered Telki's narrowed gaze. "If you hurry, we might catch some of the hilarity."

"I want it to go on record that you three do not play fair, and are boogerheads." Telki slid across Gideon, his groan at the maneuver only somewhat mollifying her. Afterall, it was their grand idea to get up now.

Telki grumbled and groused with her usual lack of grace as she wriggled back into her clothes, and happened to notice all three of them watching her with something approaching concern. "What?"

"Well, how are you feeling? Nausea? Upset?" And at Erandur's gentle questioning, Telki's knees dumped her in the floor. Three men scrambled comically to get off the bed and help.

"Did you have to remind me when I wasn't near a chair?" Telki's eyes went wide. "We're having a baby!" A downside to this whole affair quickly occurred to Telki. If she thought they'd been overprotective before, they were going to be positively unlivable now. "I want it to go on record now that there will be no treating me like spun glass, or I will start hitting people in the head with Gideon's hammer."

Just a very few minutes later (compared to their first trip herding children), with only a slight smattering of hovering, the four found themselves approaching the practice ring and the much anticipated maze. Strangely enough, there were no wild war whoops, no laughter, and all the children gathered around the maze to watch the current runner with an intensity Telki found mildly disturbing.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my children?" Telki asked from the doorway. She was immediately swamped in hugs and chatter, each one talking over the other to explain the contest to her. Apparently, among other things, the four kids that could make it through the quietest got to meet the mammoth. She briefly wondered what had given Talon that idea, then shrugged it off.

"Okay, so, who's made the run already, and who's in there now?" Telki waited for the babble to subside.

"Blossom took Orien through, it was so awesome! I mean, I didn't even know you could decapitate a pell!" Blaise enthused.

"Why did she decapitate a pell?" Mercutio's eyes were wide.

"She said the thing threatened to eat Orien's sweetroll at supper," Runa smirked. Since she was one of the best at throwing her voice, it made her parents instantly suspicious.

"Bjartr and Runa tied for first. Bjartr was through it before we even knew he called it. Runa just kinda, tore through the middle?" Lucia shook her head. "I think she's been hanging out at the Companions too much."

"Pearl and Frankie have second place, which really grumped Blossom, because she wanted to place higher," Runa side eyed Lucia.

"So, who's next?" Gideon asked, as he tried to see over the hay bale wall. "Who's in there now?"

"Demeus."

Telki tilted her head in confusion. "Why? I mean, what challenge would a Young One find in an adventure maze?"

"Plenty, when Shell's in there with him," snickered Alesan.

"Oh dear," Erandur looked slightly concerned.

"Oh gods," Gideon was hiding his face in his hands. He could imagine the glee on a certain Bitsy Bosmer face, and it boded ill for a certain hothead. As if responding to the thought, Demeus yelped and fell on his rear as several shimmering silver needles arched through the air where he had been. He landed on a shock rune. Needless to say, he had the worst sound score so far.

"I am not the one putting the bruise liniment on him," Runa stated with finality.

"Not it!" All the children followed suit, even Lucia and Alesan, fingers on noses almost simultaneously.

"Kids, pretty sure he's big enough to salve his own pride," Gideon smirked. The boy didn't look bloody, which was a blessing, but he did look as if he'd thoroughly had his ego drubbed good and proper.

"Alesan," Talon called without looking up from the pit, "Haffod, come here please."

"Yes, sir?" The boys stood anxiously before him, both nervously eyeing the maze neither one had seen Shell exit.

"You're next, you're together, and you're both taking Sura with you. She is not to do anything to assist. She is injured, and you will get her through safely. Shell is going to target her."

"A rescue mission? Will we be given tools?" There was a gleam in Haffod's eye, as if Talon had given him a divine purpose.

"No, and you both have to work together, or you all lose," he said firmly.

One could almost see the wheels turning in Alesan's head. "We can do it, Haffod."

"We will do it." The steely surety in the nascent paladin's voice had Talon glancing with amusement at Gideon. Gideon could only return the look with puzzlement.

Demeus finally finished the maze, jumping and flushing when Shell simply appeared next to him, laughing and slapping him on the back before going to retrieve her needles. He practically glowed red as he climbed the stairs, and whatever Heron snarked at him when he reached the top almost had him pushing the other boy over the railing.

As soon as he was clear, Talon caught Shell's eye and made a couple of hand motions. She grinned ferally and nodded, fixing a few pieces of the course before having a few words with a much-too-amused Ama, the pair of them concealing themselves. Talon went and had a quiet word with Sura, who shrank back from him but looked intrigued when he started talking, nodding agreement before he lifted her and carried her to the middle of the maze, putting her up on a bale stack like a princess in a tower. She giggled and kicked her feet like a child on holiday.

Murril, fond of watching people jump when Sparkles did the Funny Thing, made her own contribution by releasing the atronach into the maze. Talon looked amused and patted her head. She beamed at him.

Alesan and Haffod shared a long measuring look between them, both finally nodding silent assent. All three of their scores depended on each other, and they were the only ones that could actively do things. They would do this, do it together, for Sura's sake. Erandur, Mercutio, and Gideon, who had been having a fine laugh with each other, all sobered when Telki nudged them to look at their boys facing the maze.

"Talon, you sneaky son of a succubus," Mercutio whistled low.

Gideon had to wipe a proud tear away. "He's using their affection for Sura to overcome their jealousy, working together to get her out of the maze safely."

"Bloody brilliant, is what it is," Erandur was rubbing his chin in thought. "Do you think he'd consider wrangling our kids full time? He might be better at it than we are."

"Nope. My babies. Talon may borrow them occasionally, but mine." Telki's arms were crossed in front of her, and a determined pout rolled her lip out, sending all three husbands chuckling. Their attention turned back to the maze as Talon gave the boys their cue to start their run.

Haffod and Alesan carefully moved into the maze, back to back and alert for threats. At the first encounter, Haffod buried the Illusory bandit in a tumble of bales, then used fists until the illusion 'died,' leaving a worn pell behind.

"Take the weapons," Alesan urged, keeping an eye out for Shell or the minitronach, or whatever other traps they had loose in the maze. As Haffod moved forward, the slight gleam of a paralysis rune caught the light. "Wait!" Alesan hurled one of the loose bales at the rune, setting it off with a soft muffled " _bwzzt"_ beneath the bound hay. "Okay, now." Alesan backed up against the remaining bale wall to watch Haffod's back as he gathered the shield and practice blade.

"And you, Alesan?" Haffod tested the shield's straps and tucked the dull blade into his belt.

The quiet hiss was the only warning they received before a chain wrapped around Alesan's ankle. Haffod caught him as he fell, and yanked the chain as hard as he could. It kept coming, then channeled sparks up its length, giving them enough of a shock to know what could have happened before ceasing. Both boys were left panting, but Alesan got his ankle free. The chain retracted out of sight before they got their bearings.

"And…you people… _willingl_ y added her to the family?" Haffod still felt twitchy, but they had to keep moving. Sura was counting on them, and if they were willing to electrocute them, who knew what they would be willing to do to another Young One? The thought angered him, but he throttled it down. After all, Sura wasn't being an active participant, so they should leave her alone, right?

"Wasn't…my call. So far she's been fun." Alesan shook himself all over, though the shocky feeling still remained. Pins and needles raced up and down his body, as if he'd slept wrong all over, instead of just an arm or foot.

"Alesan, Haffod," Sura's light voice called over the maze, "I don't mean to rush you, but I seem to have Illusion flames climbing up my hay pile, and I think it's supposed to signal my imminent doom." There was a pause and the sound of Shell stifling laughter, and Sura's voice came again. "I mean, help? Oh my. Help."

Alesan and Haffod shared a brief 'are you kidding look' before they were mildly overcome with a fit of soft laughter. Despite their silly fit, they both took off, low to the ground and close to the bales, watching each other's backs as they went. Afterall, they couldn't rescue her from the 'dread inferno' if they were 'dead,' now, could they?

A noxious splat on Haffod's shield was their next clue they were upon another encounter. A well past its prime tomato slid off the shield, and plopped wetly at their feet.

"Ahoy there, mateys! The Dreadful 'Mater pirate is upon you! Quiver in fear, and may the Good Divines have mercy on your sorry souls!" Another volley of overripe tomatoes pelted their location from where Ama was settled with a sling. Alesan hunkered down behind Haffod and his shield for safety's sake.

"Okay, how do we topple the dreadful pirate of noxious tomato throwing?"

"I'm thinking! I'm thinking!" Alesan looked about him for inspiration. Who decided he was the brains of this outfit? Oh wait, he's running with Haffod.

"Think faster, man! These things reek!"

"Okay, give me the shield, and you toss this bale at her location. If nothing else, she'll have to abandon her ammunition."

Haffod felt itchy in his own skin, the tomato stink was nauseating, he still tingled from the sparks, and this entire thing was turning out to be incredibly frustrating. Glancing up at Gideon, he closed his eyes a moment and blocked out Ama's needling laughter, focusing on their lessons and meditating, trying to reach that place of inner calm the paladin had showed him. He had it for just a moment when Ama changed the angle of her flight and a rotten fruit burst against his shoulder, and he whirled to yell at her in frustration. " _ **FUS**_!" Tomatoes went flying backwards to explode along the wall and the ward Pearl put up with a flick of her fingers and a sigh.

"Thank you for saving me, Pearl," Frankie stared up at her with the most adoring of gazes.

"The tomatoes must be vanquished," she replied dryly.

"Ooy, I am slaiiin" Ama didn't sound like a very dead pirate, not with the veritable fountain of giggles from a pile of hay where the Villainous 'Mater Pirate had been. Haffod just transferred his goggled gaze back to his mentor, mildly surprised to see a huge grin wreathing his face, looking quite as proud of him as he would any of his children and applauding slowly.

"Man! I didn't know you could Shout!" Alesan pulled the shocked Haffod along behind him, making their way quickly from the exploded bales and towards Sura's hay tower.

"It's never worked before!" Haffod scanned the area behind them, since Alesan was watching front, looking for whatever their next encounter would be, hoping they could make it to Sura before anything else befell him.

Obviously it couldn't happen that way. Thanking whatever stars allowed him to catch the furtive movement out of the corner of his eye, Haffod found himself yanking free of Alesan's grip and rolling with the shield just as Gideon taught him, catching Shell full in the chest with it.

Haffod was never so thankful for the bales of hay in his life.

It wasn't very often Shell was caught by the same move twice, and she twisted like a cat midair to catch herself against the bale, staring for a second in astonishment before grinning evilly and doing a backflip over it.

"Haffod what's with the look?"

"Shell just grinned at me," Haffod felt as if frost atronachs were skating up and down his spine.

Alesan huffed at Haffod's quivering words, and pulled the young squire along behind him. "So? Shell grins all the time."

"Like she's deciding what sauce to serve over your freshly flayed bones?" Haffod's voice still squeaked. "I am  _scared_ , Alesan, and I'm pretty sure I've every right to be at this point."

Evil, merry laughter rang through the arena at that. It was impossible to tell exactly where it was coming from. Alesan found himself swallowing a few times before finally finding his voice. "Okay, I think I understand now." There was no disguising the squeak that had crept into it.

It took them ten minutes longer to reach the center of the maze than anyone except Demeus. They were harried by Illusory birds, fogs, patches of ice and flame, and the little atronach, which they finally trapped inside a "room" of hay bales. Sura was still "alive," but the fire had almost reached her feet, and she was sitting on a stack far taller than they were. She looked down at them curiously.

"You can cast frost, yes?" Haffod was studying the blaze, and cast a worried glance to his partner.

"Yeah, and just a couple others, nothing fancy, why?" Alesan glanced up at him.

"It will take us both to put this 'fire' out. I can reach higher, but that will leave the base to you to extinguish."

"Man, when did you get smart?"

"When it mattered. Ready?"

As the boys became engrossed in their task, Ama rolled out of her protective pile of hay. She was finished for the day. She did her best to disguise her faint limp, but the twitchy brows on both Wemie and Nala said she would be subjected to a full inspection. It wasn't her fault, not even the boy knew he was packing a  _ **Fus**_ , so how could anyone expect her to know?

Telki was the only one not giving her the once over, and that was because she was thoroughly sucked into the minidrama unfolding in the maze. The maze was worlds more difficult than she would have thought (she saw now why Talon had been worried he would overdo it), but the boys were doing much better than expected. An entire rainbow of emotions played out across her face. Concern chasing worry eclipsed by pride only to be washed away by an overwhelming need to discuss what was and was not permissible for Shell to use against her babies. Hormones might have had an unhealthy amount of say in that particular discussion.

Sura tucked her feet away from the very real frost extinguishing the fake flames. "What now?" she asked them, her eyes shining with curiosity and amusement. She could honestly say she'd never had this much fun training, although she wasn't entirely certain that's actually what this was.

"And now, my lady, I shall play the part of thy carriage, whilst my stealthy partner leads us the correct path out of this suddenly much scarier maze. You heard the laugh, yes?" Haffod reached up and lifted her gently down from her perch to cradle against his chest.

"Oh," she said, blushing a bit and not entirely sure why.

"Yeah yeah, hurry up, this way's clear for the moment, as best as I can tell," Alesan continued in a barely heard mutter, "for all the good that does against someone like Shell. Sheesh." He signaled Haffod to follow closely as he made his silent way down the hay-lined corridor.

The path was mostly clear. There were rune traps, and a section of loose hay set to "landslide" down upon them that they barely avoided, and the usual collection of Illusory warriors. Perversely, the lack of strong opposition started to wear on their nerves, to the point where they both actually started to get slightly jumpy. The sight of Shell leaning against the doorway out was both a relief and a shock, like a trickle of cold water on a hot day running down their spines.

They both glanced at each other for a single moment. When they realized their mistake, Shell was missing from the door.

"Shor's bones, where'd she go?" Haffod's head whipped about, looking for some sign of the devious hellcat stalking them.

"I dunno, why'd you take your eyes off her?" Alesan's glance crossed Sura, and her head turned to watch a particular area. Alesan tapped Haffod's shoulder, catching his attention. He nodded to Sura, and Haffod caught on quickly.

Sura flinched back at nearly the same instant Shell darted through, brushing right past them, and leaving Alesan's gauntlet dangling by one less leather strap before she was out of sight again. The lower half of his arm was numb with cold, rendering it as useless for the moment as if she had broken it.

Haffod huffed in frustration. However, he saw the flinch, and there was a half tick between that flinch and Shell's appearance; he had a chance to Shout her out of their way, and they could make their escape, maybe. He'd have to hope for the best, and try not to be too obvious watching Sura watch for Shell.

There was the flinch, and Haffod tried his best to Shout as he had the first time. What emerged from his poor abused throat sounded more like an angry horker garling frogs.

There was a bit of a crash as Shell fell back against the bales she was by, staring at him in astonishment again, laughing so hard she couldn't breath. One hand steadied herself against the straw while the other held her side.

Haffod flushed from his toes to the roots of his hair in embarrassment. That blasted Nordic fair skin announced to all and sundry his consternation, but at least their last "obstacle" was indisposed. While Shell was still collapsed against the bales, Haffod quickly scooped Alesan over the opposite shoulder of the arm Sura was safely ensconced in, and turned tail and ran as if all the Hounds of Hircine were after him, never breaking stride until they were all safely out the exit. Shell rolled with laughter, sitting on a pile of hay where she whooped a congratulations at him.

Alesan watched in amazement as the scariest parent he had whooped in glee as Haffod made trails out the exit, free and clear. They made it, Holy Hepcats, they'd made it. It almost made the bruise he was sure to find on his poor stomach worth it. A quick look to the Parent Patrol revealed beaming pride all around. Telki looked smugly satisfied, Gideon was about to burst his doublet if his chest puffed anymore, and Merc and Erandur were slapping each other's backs in glee. His heart fell a little as he jumped down and took in Sura's expression. Her eyes were solidly on Haffod's face. She was still slightly flushed, and her expression was somewhat bewildered.

Above them, Demeus and Heron exchanged glances. The Redguard frowned worriedly, obviously thinking hard. Heron simply tilted his head slightly and regarded the other Nord, expression quiet and pensive. They'd been under the impression that not just anyone could learn Shouts. Obviously, there was more to the  _thu'um_  than they had been aware of, or just possibly Haffod was further along in their heathen religious order than they'd assumed. Either way, he bore watching now. Especially with Sura blushing all over him.

"Well partner," Alesan managed after catching his breath, "we won't be meeting any mammoths anytime soon, not with all that Shouting going on, but we made it out against Shell! That's gotta count for something."

"Mayhap I will properly appreciate that when I can sit comfortably again." A quick glance down was all it took to understand. The seat of Haffod's britches were thickly covered in frost.

"If that had been a real strike, you wouldn't need to worry about sitting," Talon said, coming down the stairs. His hand hovered over the boy's shoulder, soothing Healing light flowing through the Nord.

"So we failed?" Haffod's face was as blank as he could make it.

"Do not expect to best Shell as you are. She always holds back with children. For your task, you did succeed." He reached out and gently took Alesan's arm, examining it for a moment to see exactly how the strike would have gone, then Healing it as well, letting the spell go through and ease most of the bruising and shock marks. He'd wanted this to be onerous for them, to force them to work together. Now he was wondering if they were perhaps seeing themselves in a new light as well.

Haffod nodded. "Neither of us had any illusions about beating Shell should she unleash her full prowess against us. I travelled with her for a while. I've see her in action."

"She scares me just playing hide and seek!" Alesan didn't even try to hide the squeak. "No illusions here!"

"Aw, thanks sweetie!" Shell said, giving the boy a one-armed squeeze. Alesan tried not to jump, but he was still hyped up from the run. He did settle enough to return the squeeze. He was just tall enough to tuck Shell under his shoulder.

"I see you did your best to forget any discipline you ever learned," Talon told Shell evenly. She fluttered her eyelashes at him and did a terrible job looking innocent.

"Honestly, is it even possible for us to train enough we could escape someone as well-trained as Shell?" Alesan asked. "I mean, you guys have been training your whole lives."

"Escape? Possibly. Beat?" he thought a moment. "Under the right circumstances. You are clever and have resources she is only now learning about."

"Like the Shieldroll of Doom," Shell piped in, apparently unbothered by this assessment. "I had no idea Gideon had taught you that. He pulled that on me when we met and if I didn't have magic, I would have ached for a week." She leaned out the door to yell up at her fiancé, "Treenord! Why didn't you warn me you'd taught Saplingnord that trick?"

Gideon's grin was unrepentant. "I thought you liked surprises."

Alesan cracked up. "Saplingnord? Oh, I'm never letting that go!"

Haffod didn't know whether to hide behind the shield he still carried or bash Alesan in the head with it. Neither option was likely to grant him a reprieve. Besides, the shield was providing cover for covert cuddles with Sura. It wasn't like there were chairs or anything to sit her down in the practice ring, and it wasn't like she was heavy, so it just seemed reasonable to Haffod to keep holding her right where both she and he were comfortable at the moment. Sura didn't protest, somewhat enjoying the attention, though she was a bit bothered why her heart was beating faster and she felt all giddy. It wasn't as if Heron or Demeus or other members of her team hadn't needed to carry her before this, or even hug her for affection.

"Haffod, why don't you hand Sura over? You just got healed, and she'd probably appreciate a comfy chair by a fire over your sweaty hide." Alesan was very proud of his smooth move. He didn't sound jealous or cranky at all…well, much. Sura was completely hidden by the shield, but the looks Talon and Shell were giving him told him they saw right through his attempt. He had no idea where he found the wherewithal to keep his head up and meet their eyes, though he felt like his cheeks were on fire.

Haffod's smirk was no better, either. "Sura, do you wish to go inside? Or stay and visit with everyone? I would gladly bear you wherever you wish."

A bit confused by his vernacular, she asked, "Why would I need to visit? I'm already here."

Haffod looked a bit lost for an answer, and Alesan was too busy strangling his own laughter to answer her. Talon walked over and simply lifted the girl out of Haffod's arms, giving them both an admonishing look before climbing the stairs. Unfortunately for the boys, he'd been immune to lost puppy expressions longer than they'd both been alive.

Shell was snickering at them both. "Very smooth."

"But, I was just trying to help?" Haffod looked at her with confusion. "What'd I do amiss?"

"Alright, let's go with me pointing out what should have been extremely obvious," she said, looking from one to the other. "Sura has no idea you're flirting or competing for her attention. In a team dynamic, she was a throwaway. Friendship is not a new concept, but romance? You might want to give her more than two days in the world before trying to show off, because believe me, she's seen that part before."

"If I ever needed proof the Thalmor were complete idiots, there it is. And why do you look like Shell just hit you in the head with Poppa Gideon's hammer?" Alesan budged Haffod in the ribs.

"I just…she's lovely, and I wanted to spend time with her. Who would dare lower her to some prize to be won, or treat her as a throwaway? What fools were these?"

Giving him an approving look as she took in the beginnings of a full-on paladin loom, she patted the air placatingly. "Down boy. She never was a prize—at least not until she got here and Telki got her all dolled up—but a throwaway in the Thalmor means a support member of a team. She has low magical resources and is middling at combat. Her job was to get the principle out of line of fire. It's not the same as you're probably thinking." She didn't mention that where she was trained, the poor thing would have been culled long since. If anything good could be said of Dessnia, it was that she didn't cull. Mostly because it was a wasted resource, but she still didn't cull.

Haffod jerkily nodded to her, but the loom didn't settle for a good while, still upset on her behalf.

Alesan was thinking. "So, she's really never been, treated, y'know, like a girlfriend before?"

"Probably not," Shell told them ruefully. "I'm not saying don't try, just stop throwing your effort down that particular path. Try getting her comfortable with her new life first. She'll realize the rest later." Tilting her head slightly as something else occurred to her, she decided they might as well know and let her idea see daylight. "Of course, this also means she might be easy prey for anyone looking to take advantage. Poor thing could get her heart broken so easily, and us putting all that effort into making her trust. That'd be a shame, wouldn't it?"

Alesan smiled at Shell. "I know what you're trying to do. Thing is, I can see the sense in it. Sneaky adult."

"Observant child," she winked.

Haffod was rubbing the back of his head, thinking hard. "That may be trickier than you think. All the old ballads, it seemed the more the innocent young maiden was warned, or protected, the more appealing that made the interloper. I would not have that for Sura."

"Let me share a secret with you boys," she said after a moment of hesitation. "You've seen how Gideon treats Telki and I?" Both boys nodded. "Even before he showed any interest in me, once I had encountered that, I didn't want anything less. Being respected and cherished is a high bar, and once you've encountered it, you can just tell when a man doesn't want anything but…doesn't really think much of you."

Alesan gave Shell a wide, mischievous grin. "Although, it never hurts to help a cad out himself, either, does it?"

"It does if he can make it backfire," she warned. "Some people can twist what you say or do no matter how much evidence you have."

Alesan held his hands up. "I don't fancy myself any sort of a sneaky operative, but a cad will be a cad, and Sura's not stupid."

Privately, Shell thought that Sura wouldn't know a cad from a milch cow just yet, but maybe if the boys showed her what one wasn't, she'd know the behavior wasn't normal when she did finally meet one. In the meantime, the woman shrugged. "At any rate, I think you two were the last to go through, unless someone wants to take a second crack at it. You know what that means?"

"Time to clean up?" Alesan winced. Talon might have healed the worst of it, but he was exhausted and still a little sore.

"I believe Ulfric has a sauna somewhere in this pile of rocks, but I was going to say lunch," she rubbed her hands together with glee. Some people would never understand how much she loved food.

"I am famished," Haffod's stomach decided that little statement required added emphasis, and growled loudly.

"Great! Motion seconded. Let's get food," she skipped past them and flounced up the stairs, looking like she'd done nothing more strenuous all morning than get out of bed.

"How can she? I mean, I feel like I've been beaten with a bag of bricks, and she was down here half the morning." Alesan watched her dumbfounded.

"As I said, it was your family that decided to add her," Haffod teased, helping steady Alesan when he stumbled over his own tired feet.

"Yeah, because your hero asked." Alesan allowed himself a smug smile when Haffod had no ready reply. "C'mon, let's get the lead out, before that hero of yours happens to all the good stuff."

**.**

* * *

 

**.**

While the kids celebrated their successful runs, Gideon and Haffod went off to discuss the squire successfully using the  _thu'um_ (a milestone in their Order that few were able to reach), and Shell went off to make some arrangements for that afternoon with Jorlief, Telki was waylaid by a grouchier than normal Galmar. She and Tyr exchanged worried looks as he beckoned them both to the War Room with Ulfric.

"What do you mean, vanished?" Ulfric asked, concern dropping his voice low.

"It's as if he disappeared into the damned air. There's no trail and no trace. I know, I've had guards searching for him all night," Galmar growled, hitting the map table with a thick fist. Frustration and guilt chased each other across his face. Prisoners did not escape him, ever. "If I didn't know better, I'd say Sam or Rommy opened a portal and chucked him through it."

"He wouldn't actually do that, would he?" Tyr asked, slanting a glance at Telki, anger glimmering in his eyes. "He did say that one was mad now."

Telki shook her head. "Rommy's been in the Shivering Isles, having a full Sheogorath fit. He hasn't been cognizant enough to have done it, and Sam's been…preoccupied."

The frown deepened, "What do you mean? Er, not about Sam," he added hastily, glancing away with a slightly blush. He never, ever wanted to know what Sanguine got up to in his spare time. The time he'd discovered Tyr now knew the Big Secret and popped in to "check on" him and Fey did not bear repeating, either. One Daedric-sized dent in the wall was enough.

Telki sighed. "The turkey has been repressing his auspice to help, and now we're to this." She was not sulky. She was frustrated with him not taking care of himself, or trusting her with all of him.

"'This' being?" he prompted, blinking at her. He was caught between worrying about his problematic kinsman and being reminded of a sulky wet cat he'd taken in as a child. It had mostly ignored him after that, but had taken a liking to his father, who pretended to tolerate it but would pet it when he thought no one was looking.

"I have to give him five days for a full Sheogorath meltdown before I can even think about dragging him back to Nirn. He even sent Murril to me. He's never done that before." Telki huffed, "I'm worried and I miss him and I'm aggravated with his high-handed caution."

"I…am very confused," Tyr admitted, "but I take it he neither kidnapped the prisoner nor can help find him?"

"That's the take home message, yes," Telki grumped.

Sighing and rubbing his head, Tyr asked rhetorically, "Why do I get the feeling there is a lot more to all this than I know yet?" Lifting his eyes to Galmar, he asked, "Do we have any idea how long he's been missing?"

"The best the guards can tell us is that he was there when the other was taken out for execution. Hell, Ulfric was there for that. Damned fool was still screaming about eyes in his head. He was gone by the time supper was brought down. They didn't report it because they assumed the screaming menace had been relocated to the madhouse," Galmar huffed. It rankled him no little bit that his guards had been that lax in their duties. Punishment regimens and lessons in duty would continue until it sunk into the stoneheads to quit assuming. His mood soured when he realized that also meant he'd have to do more follow-ups and read more damn reports, too.

Tyr sighed and slouched against the wall, rubbing his forehead and wondering how he was going to explain this to Fey. "At least we got what we could out of him. How did he escape, though? Honestly, the 'how' worries me more than the 'what;' an unknown way out could be an unknown way in."

Telki was tapping her teeth. "Well, if it seems like they were chucked through a portal, then our most likely bet is magic. Surely Mercutio or Fey could check for residual magic signatures? It would give us some kind of answer, or maybe a place to start?"

"Wuunferth confirmed magic use, but couldn't tell us more than that," Galmar grumbled. He knew how to do his job, dammit.

"Well, I suppose he'll be hiding from Fey now, and not just Pearl," Tyr gave him a wry smile. "She might insist on putting spells on the prison to avoid this happening again. And if she doesn't, I bet Talon will."

"No, I will. They are my prisons, and I'll not have some damned mage pulling prisoners out as they please. If your Lady Fey and Talon would do us the pleasure, I would be indebted to you." Ulfric's eyes glittered under lowered brows, the muscles in his jaw working as he gritted his teeth.

"Better include your Court Wizard in on that," his friend put in with a hint of wry humor, "I think he's already starting to worry that we're going to put a Young One in his place and forcibly retire him."

Ulfric raised an eyebrow. "Those would be in addition to Wuunferth's wards. That man has forgotten more magic than most mages learn. Though he has complained more than once of tripping over your stepdaughter in his books."

"She does get carried away by printed words," Tyr said affectionately. "Should make it easy to keep the boys away in a few…decades."

Galmar snorted. "Don't count on it. Now the fireballs might…"

"Or Blossom might stab them," Tyr mused, not sounding like he minded.

Galmar laughed out loud, cheered by the thought. "You might have to worry about the boys chasing her first!" He waved a hand away. "I'll go see about Wuunferth and his wards, and check on those stoneheads on guard duty. Send Talon our way when he has a free moment. I can just imagine the magic mumbling I'll get to enjoy when that happens. Give me something I can stick an axe in any day. It's cleaner." Galmar waved to them, and rolled out of there like a thunderstorm looking for a place to land.

Tyr sighed. "Well, back to the family. Just when Blossom was starting to have fun, too: Now she's going to be worried about what upset her mother, who I am  _not_ looking forward to telling this to. I think Fey was planning to skin him for a hat or something." At their looks, he added, "That was an exaggeration. She's just really peeved they presumed to kidnap our children." He wasn't quite over that, either, and he probably never would be. The thought made him want to go find the mastermind and rend them limb from limb, Shout them to pieces, and for some reason call them "puny  _joor"_  a lot.

"I was about to ask how much she's been hanging around Galmar," Telki quipped. She ignored the little ping in the vicinity of her heart at Tyr's nonsense and expression. That particular method of pushing aside his anger was very familiar to her.

"Eh, Bjartr's been coming over to play with Orien and Blossom," he said, shrugging and shoving his hands in his pockets. "So, back to the madness?"

Telki sighed. Was everything going to make her think of Rommy? "One can hope."


	22. The Abuse of Greatness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shell holds her first Board Meeting. It sort of goes Alright.
> 
>  
> 
> Image provided by Sir Douglas of Fir, and tweaked by Evil is Relative.

 

Shell leaned against the doorframe, watching everyone settle in the out-of-the-way room Ulfric's timid little steward had cleaned out and shoved a big table into when she'd asked. She honestly couldn't tell if the man were afraid of her or not. He was slightly terrified of Blossom, but he was one of the people she'd stabbed her first few weeks here when she caught the man scolding Orien for going somewhere he shouldn't, so it was to be expected.

Nibbling her thumb a bit, she watched Talon, staring out the window and probably evaluating something, because his mind never shut off. Tyr and Fey were murmuring quietly to each other near the sideboard, which was mostly to hold drinks since they'd all just had lunch. Something had her mother angry enough to spit tacks, but he seemed to be talking her down, which was a distinct relief. Fey could turn into a force of nature when her ire was invoked, and in some ways it irritated her eldest no end that she seldom did anything with that ability.

Telki was still being made much of by her husbands, who were understandably more clingy than normal. Wemie was very carefully not looking at Ulfric as she talked to Nala, who kept glancing at Talon when she thought no one was looking. Shell had joined the betting pool on Wemie and Ulfric that morning, but everyone that would normally take amusement at such a thing was staying far away from Nala's tangle. For that reason alone, Shell had put a small bet on her, though honestly she thought the woman was setting herself up for disappointment. Ulfric looked preoccupied with something, and Galmar was rumbling something at him. Judging from her past experience, she bet it had to do with ice wraiths.

"Sooo, what are we waiting for? Much as I love some time away from the munchkin brigade, we do need to move this along while we still have a house. There's only so much mayhem even Saints and Seducers can manage." Telki bounced in her place between Erandur and Mercutio, Gideon providing her usual seat.

"Well, firstly, I need confirmation that not a word of how you learned what you're about to learn will leave this room," Shell stated, eyes passing over all of them. The expressions varied from bright curiosity to suspicion, but all present nodded.

"What's the big reveal?" Telki abhorred a vacuous silence.

"I have someone I want you to meet," she said.

"Shor save me, you've taken up matchmaking?" Gideon rumbled, "You really have been spending too much time with Telki."

" _Mellani,_ I never did get around to promising not to stab you," she said smoothly.

"No worries little spitfire: If she's as spirited as you, I might just consider it," Galmar gave her a wolfish smile. "Nights around here are getting cold even for my bones."

"And here I thought your enduring love for king and country kept you warm at night," Shell said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Well, that or your hat."

Galmar snorted, jerking an accusing thumb at Ulfric. "Have you heard this bear snore? Hardly." He gave her a sour look, "And leave Helgrid out of it."

"That's on my list of things I didn't need to know," the Nightengale said hastily.

"Are you going to joke all day or let me in?" a voice called through the door peevishly. "This hallway is drafty."

Galmar's eyes widened. "I like her already."

From her perch amidst her husbands, Telki was giving Galmar a narrow-eyed considering look, fingertips tapping together like an evil mastermind. Mercutio saw it, and shuddered.

"Everyone," Shell said, shaking her head at them and reaching into the hall, "this is Blythe," she finished, yanking in a short, plump Breton with long, extremely fluffy curls cascading down her back. "And her hair. What happened?" she asked, abandoning any pretense of protocol and patting the mess.

"Children," the woman said, looking upward. "They frightened it and it burst its tie trying to escape." Shell snickered. Blythe turned to look over the table, hands on her rounded hips. "So, who is who, or do I have to play the guessing game? Fair warning: If I play the guessing game you are stuck with whatever name I give you."

"Oh, oh! Pick me! Pick me! Let me do the introductions," Telki fairly danced in Gideon's lap, which led to interesting expressions vying for supremacy on his face.

"That one with the grumpy face and dead bear on his head is Galmar, the grouchiest and best housecarl and general you'll find. That one facepalming is our lovely High King, Jarl Ulfric. I'm Telki Tailkinker, Thane of Nine Holds. The one I'm currently torturing by wiggling is my darling husband and Paladin of Shor, Gideon; this one to my right is my husband Erandur; the left, hubby Mercutio. The Altmer trying to escape out the window is Talon; the golden Khajiit with entirely too much patience on her face is my darling sister Wemie; the one hiding behind a book is my sister Nala; that redheaded fellow trying not to laugh is future emperor Tyr; and the entirely too self-possessed lady next to him is Fey. How's that?"

"I'm familiar with Talon and Fey, and I met your husbands earlier. Thank you for taking in Shell. She needs a minimum four keepers," Blythe said, giving an ironic bow.

"I can keep myself, thank you very much," Shell huffed.

"Which is why I pulled you out of an Imperial prison not three months ago."

"Visiting. Not arrested. I just wanted to see how easy it was to get in and out of," she shrugged.

"See? Keepers."

Giggling, Telki added, "You'll be happy to know there's a fifth. Lydia, who is helping ride herd on the munchkins." She refused to let the thought that Rommy wasn't currently around to help keep anyone get her down.

"I imagine having skills herding munchkins is very useful when dealing with Shell," Blythe said, voice oozing treacle.

"Anyway," Shell pouted. "Blythe is still an active Young One. That's why this meeting is in secret. She knows some things I thought you all should hear."

"You could easily have told them yourself," Blythe accused, sliding into a chair, then staring down to where the table came halfway up her chest. "Do Nords not have  _any_ normal sized furniture?"

"How do you think I feel?" Shell rolled her eyes, "Or Telki?"

"I think Telki has a booster seat, is what I think," Blythe grumbled.

"I humbly offer my services, then," Galmar inserted smoothly. Tyr choked on his cider and Fey had to pound on his back before he could breathe again.

"Maybe later," the Breton said, adjusting her oculars and giving him an appraising look. "I like to see everyone I'm talking to."

Trying to get things moving again, Ulfric finally spoke up. "Mistress Blythe, what news brought you to us?"

"Through crazy random happenstance—by which I mean my boss is a lazy bum—I processed the paperwork to kill you all," she informed them.

"Sadly enough, the assassins were faster than the news. Thankfully, they were inept. I'm assuming steps have been taken so the next time, the news reaches us first?" Ulfric asked smoothly.

"Working on that, but I think you're missing what I'm saying," she said, tossing an errant curl back. "That attempt required paperwork. Official, government paperwork. Yes, the language was vague and full of bureaucratic ass-kissing, but that was still a state document. This will happen again, and probably with a better group, and I can't always promise it will come through my office, either."

Telki was tapping her teeth. "I received word from one of my sources that there's an Elder Council in two weeks time. Do you think another attack will happen before then?"

Blythe was giving her an odd look. "Were you informed by a seer, because it's spring. Well, in the south it's spring. If there's an Elder Council, it's because there's an emergency."

"Something to that effect, you wouldn't believe my source if I told you," Telki gave her a small, sad smile.

"Sweetheart, I've been reliably informed you talk with dragons. I believe you," Blythe assured her, then blew another curl off her face.

Telki's face cleared. "I can help you tame those curls, if you'd like?" Telki turned to her husbands "Can we adopt her, too? I always wanted a cool cousin."

Wemie and Nala both snorted, but only Wemie put voice to her thoughts. "Even with Rihandi not here, you dig at him?"

"Rihandi's more a brother than a cousin. Totally doesn't count," Telki waved the comment away.

"I'll be an honorary Khajiit if they get discounts," was the dry reply. "You wouldn't believe how much office supplies I go through in a week."

"Depends on the caravan. Though you'll get the best prices if you traipse out to the Tradin' Post, in Upper Cyrodiil. Rihandi, the oft maligned cousin, has it now." Telki shook her head, "Anyway, we've been given marching orders to be at that sneaky Elder Council meeting, and I need your expert opinion. Is another attack likely to come before then?"

"Well, there was, but the funds requisition may or may not have teastains all over the pertinent bits," she shrugged. "What can I say? Long nights make me clumsy."

"Yep, it's official, you're adopted. How does it feel to be a kept woman now?" Telki teased.

"Nothing I haven't done before, but it usually involves more rope," the clerk replied. She waited for the sputtering laughter to die down before frowning slightly, "The order has me a little worried, actually. It was hastily put together with the first group that would take you all on. If they keep looking for someone better up to the job, they might stumble onto one of our groups. If the Thalmor find out this is happening, they will assist, overtly or covertly."

"We'd end up fighting our kind," Shell sighed, leaning against the wall. "And we'd have to be ten times as suspicious of any new Young One that showed up looking for freedom."

"You should be anyway," Blythe argued. "Do you have any idea how much they want some of you back?"

Telki sat there, thinking. "How common is the knowledge of what we did to Fifi?"

Raising an eyebrow at the nickname, Blythe queried, "In the Thalmor at large, or amongst the Young Ones?"

"Both, please."

"The Thalmor know mostly that something went terribly wrong with Faloniril. It was known he was keeping a dragon. There's debate whether it got out and torched the place, if it was a prison riot, or both. Keeping Young Ones isn't really spoken of in polite society—dog breeding is a little more of an acceptable hobby—so most aren't whispering about betrayal. As to the Young Ones?" she shrugged again, then flipped her hair off her face as half of it tumbled over her shoulder, "How could they not know after Shell visited half the estates to tell them?"

"Which reminds me," Telki's eyes hardened, "It needs to become common knowledge with Young Ones, Old Ones, and every beating Thalmor heart in existence. My kids are not targets." At Blythe's faintly surprised look, she leaned forward, tail lashing. "Let me put it this way: I tore up an estate nearly by my own little self when I found out Fifi sacrificed his own newborn son. What would I be capable of if they harm  _my_  babies? I know where their hideyholes are, I could just as easily find all their kiddles. I wouldn't harm a bunch of children, but they don't know that; let them see how it feels to have a loved one threatened."

"Going after the children of the Thalmor lords, huh?" she said, eyes sliding to Talon, "Interesting idea. They'd  _love_ that. Lots of reasons to push the public opinion in their favor."

Telki sighed, cradling her head with both hands. "What warning would keep my kids out of their plans, then?"

"Best idea I can come up with? Individually blackmailing the lot," she shrugged. "Or you could just kill them all. I'm for that one."

Telki whined and stretched out on the table. "Dammit, is it too much to ask for at least some of them to grow a brain and conscience?"

"If they have brains and consciences, generally they're dissenters, or at least not involved with Young Ones. Did I not mention the whole 'slightly seedy hobby' part of the Young One business?"

Telki slapped a hand over her face. "Oh, yeah, I did get that memo. But then, my opinion of Thalmor would have to be above the sewage line for it to really matter."

Blythe rose and made her way over to the sideboard, availing herself of some of the strong Nordic tea they had sitting on a small warming stone and pouring in a liberal amount of cream. She didn't like sweets, but she wasn't the kind to enjoy puckering at extreme bitterness, either. Apparently some Nords flat out put butter in their tea, it was so strong. "You might be able to just wait until one comes sniffing around trying to get one of these ones back—Fey, dear, you're under kill order, but your children are a re-indoctrinate if possible and Talon has a flat out reward for his return—and send them back to Alinor with their tail between their legs and an offer of 'don't go after my kids and I won't go after yours.' Though, there's a loophole to that, too."

Galmar snorted, "That's if she doesn't decide to add them to her collection."

Telki narrowed her eyes at Galmar. "Don't make me retaliate, you." She turned her attention back to Blythe, "Loophole?"

"You already kidnapped the children of two Thalmor lords," Blythe explained, turning and leaning against the sideboard.

"Wait, I , what?" Telki's brows drew down. "I rescued Young Ones and prisoners from Fifi's personal hellhole. Pearl rescued herself from a cull. If  _that's_  how these supposed lords are treating their own children, maybe I  _ought_  to rescue more of 'em. I have a lovely hidden Temple I can happily turn into a halfway home."

The Breton took a sip of tea, "Hyaril, only son of Justiciar Lord Ernir Anaedorin, and Minoena, third daughter of Lord Aramere Thaorwatch and Justiciar Lady Luar. Both families, by the way, have lodged a formal complaint with the Empire. Unfortunately, you not being a citizen of the Empire, the Imperials were unable to assist."

Telki's brows furrowed. "Hy and Min are their own persons, and old enough their families threw them to the Thalmor. Not my fault they chose Skryim over their,  _ahem_ , loving families."

Smirking, Blythe explained blithely, "Both of them are in their seventies. Altmer aren't considered adults until at least their centennial. Most of the parents are giving them odd looks for even letting them out of the house, but then, they still had a few decades of training to undergo."

Telki hummed. "I'm not going to make them go back if they don't want to go. Now, if they want contact with their family, I'll move all of Creation to make it happen, but them kids have been through enough, and they're happy now. I ain't takin' their happy away for nobody."

"According to Minoena's mother, all the heartfelt pleas they sent their children were brushed off with a single, terse letter telling them to shove it."

Telki snerked loudly, in fact, if not for Gideon's quick reflexes, she might have fallen off her perch. "Wait, what who when?"

"Couriers are perfectly willing to take letters from parents to children," Blythe said. "Whether they knew the letters were from high ranking Justiciars or not I can't tell you."

"I'm on that," Shell added. "The couriers have that 'your hands only' motto, but it doesn't work if they don't catch someone reading what they're carrying. And we always put them back. Well, almost always."

Telki sighed with relief. "Okay, so, parents wrote a letter, the kids actually got their letter, and they decidedly told them to shove off. I'm good with that."

"Oh, yes. Hyaril's fiancee was most heartfelt," the woman said with a little smirk into her tea.

Telki laughed outright. "So, Min's finally come around to what a darlin' Hy is? Excellent."

"Oh, no. His fiancee back in Alinor. Apparently, his parents found him the perfect match after they shipped him off." She paused, carefully lifted a curl out of the handle of her mug, and flipped it over her arm, where it clung with a little spark of static.

Telki shook her head. "I cannot believe these people. It's like their brains work backward or something. How did Hy take that bit of news?"

"What did that one say again?" Blythe glanced at Shell, who snickered.

"Something about 'please keep hiding out there. If we wait long enough, maybe they'll forget.'" She shrugged, "Sounds like they had met at some point, at least."

It took a while for the chuckles around the table to die down. Galmar, watching her fight with her hair, harrumphed, scraped out of his chair, and came up behind Blythe. "Let's get your hair tied back down. I don't see any children in here to scare it again. With your permission?" Galmar showed her the bit of leather he had in hand.

Her eyes flickered from his face to his hands. "I can think of half a dozen other things you can do with that, but if you want to tug at my hair, go right ahead," she said, turning. Her hair practically attacked his shirt with static.

Galmar chuckled warmly behind her, and patiently started plaiting her hair. It was a poor Nord that didn't know how to weave a simple plait. "Care to share a supper with me tonight then? We can see how well this hair tugging and leather thongs are likely to work for us."

"As long as it's where no one can wander in and identify me later—I'm still in Cyrodiil if anyone asks," she tossed a grin at him over her shoulder, "And it's been awhile since I showed off my knotwork."

"Okay, wow," Telki cut in, bringing everyone's slightly flabbergasted gaze off the pair. "So. Everyone okay with a Dragonborn expedition hieing off to Cyrodiil in time for the sneakypants Elder Council meeting?" The gaping mouths around the table told her the continued courting of Galmar and Blythe would be better suited for the privacy of Galmar's rather spacious rooms. She was pleased for them, though. Galmar she'd long been worried about, and Blythe struck her as entirely too lonely with the way she talked about being stuck in that warehouse, so the two getting along like a house on fire pleased her no end.

"I guess I'm going," Tyr sighed. "Everyone keeps telling me I'm supposed to captain this ship; might as well start with a mutiny."

"Alright, who's all aboard the mutiny?" Telki looked around. "Obviously, if both Dragonborn have to be there, that means me too. How many Hubbies am I taking?"

"A moment," Talon interjected thoughtfully, then looked at Merc, "Can Sam establish those portals of his without constantly monitoring them?"

"I honestly don't know. I can ask, or we can ask him here for this meeting, but he's…not what you'd call circumspect." Mercutio leveled a look at Blythe, "Disrupting the barracks is the least he gets up to."

She sighed. "Ah, shit. You're fucking Sanguine, aren't you?"

"How did you know?" Sam asked, sitting on the floor next to her with the end of her braid tickling the top of his head. He frowned and reached up, squeezing it. "Puffy."

Blythe blinked down at him, but didn't jump (she was too used to random mice by her feet to jump). "I have a list of receipts for you," was all she said.

"Interesting," he smirked at her. "Hi, Gally. Bet she'd look cute in the bear hat."

"Hello Trouble. We'll find out for sure later tonight." Galmar folded his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow at the Prince. "Just her and I, you understand."

Blythe quietly finished her tea, finding the open admission they were on the same page quite refreshing after so many years around Imperials that couched everything in florid prose and coyness. Not that many Imperials were panting after her; she was rather too plump and too acidic for them.

"Maybe you'll show me some other time," Sam shrugged, levering himself to his feet and going over to pull out the bench with Telki and her husbands on it as if they weighed as much as the average feather and plopping down between Merc's knees on the floor. "So, Sis; how'ya feeling?"

"Bounced like a rubberball so far. Lots of news." Telki ruffled his hair, "How's my favorite Daedric brother today?"

"Not drunk enough," he pouted, then brightened, "but the new cook made me Elsweyr fondue!"

"Hmm, well, so I guess you don't need this Sam's special juniper mead I have then?" Telki teased. Sam wordlessly included her leg in the hug he was giving Merc's and made sad, red-rimmed eyes at her.

Telki chuckled as she opened her dimensional pocket, pulled his mead out, and handed it off to him. "Here, sweetie. Up to answering some portal questions? We have a date in Cyrodiil in about two weeks."

"And you want me to open a portal between here and the Imperial City so that you don't have to choose who goes where or leave the children very long and have a nice convenient escape route. I figured you would. One of my long-time followers offered his house already. You can stay as long as you like, he said, provided you're nice, don't scare his cat, and I take him to the Grove when he dies," he said, barely paying attention as he opened the bottle.

"Seriously, how are you not the Daedric Prince of Tactics or something?" Telki bent down to hug him around the neck, completely trusting Gideon and Merc to keep her from falling.

"Drunk people don't lead armies very well," he said easily, then leaned his head back on Merc's leg to waggle his eyebrows at him, "But I do like impressing Muffin."

"You do, on a regular basis," Merc bent over and kissed him. Blythe tilted her head to watch.

"Guys, pretty as that is to watch, there was that whole 'monitor the portals' question?" Telki thought someone needed to interrupt, and the entire table seemed to have forgotten where that innocent little kiss would wind up going if they weren't brought back down to Nirn.

"I can leave the portal up and open as long as I don't open another one," Sam said, then pouted slightly. "I  _used_ to be able to have them up all over Nirn, but then there were Dragonfires, and it was just too much— _hic!—_ effort to keep them up."

"So, the thing Martin did, is kinda like a perma-Dragonfire, then?" Telki had always wondered. This seemed like confirmation.

"Erm…yes and no," Sam shifted, like he found the question uncomfortable. "We're just a tad freer to show up ourselves, but we still can't bring armies and— _hic!—_ shite over."

" _You_  have armies?" Blythe asked skeptically.

The grin he gave her was just a bit dark and not at all lascivious, "Why yes, why do you ask?"

"Sam, you worked long and hard on your merry mischiefmaker persona, don't be all upset that it actually worked." Telki affectionately nudged his head enough it rocked him a wee bit. "And really, with the number of devoted alcoholics in the military, are you sure you can't have both domains?"

His face clouded for a minute. Both Merc and Telki caught it, Merc squeezing him a bit and Telki stroking his hair in sympathy. "Do get a lot of army-types," he finally said, snuggling into Merc. "Anyway, when do you want to— _hic!_ —go?"

"Well, we have to get Blythe back to her post by when? And then the super secret Elder Council is scheduled for two weeks from today, at which the 'Dragonborns' have to be present."

"I should technically be at my post now," she shrugged, then glanced at Galmar, "but I'm more than fine with waiting until tomorrow."

Galmar smiled down into her eyes. He bent close to her ear. "And if you're too worn out to walk tomorrow?"

"Then I guess we'll both be spending the day in bed, because it takes a lot to wear me out," she smirked, eyes bright with challenge.

"I like these two," Sam said to no one in particular.

"So, is there any other business we need to discuss?" Ulfric finally spoke up. He most certainly did not need a front row seat for Galmar's romancing or Sanguine's commentary on his technique.

Tyr sighed glumly, cuddling Fey to his side, "If I'm taking over the Empire, who is going to catechize Young Ones?" He glanced at his wife, who was looking at him worriedly. They'd really enjoyed sorting through the escaped Young Ones, helping them find new lives and sometimes families, once in awhile even reuniting them with lost kin. True, there were one or two at the bottom of the White River, and Fey had needed to incinerate another, but they'd helped dozens of others.

Telki cocked her head. "Why can't Talon, Shell, and I do that? My super duper Sight has to be good for something, and what don't Talon and Shell know about Young Ones?"

A few uncomfortable glances were exchanged. "Telki…" Tyr began, but Fey finished.

"We're afraid if you have too much access to the Young Ones, you'll need a bigger house," she said finally.

Telki giggled. "Hjerim, Breezehome, Lakeview, Windstad, Honeyside—that's in Riften, Shell, feel free to use it whenever—Vlindrel hall, Proudspire, Heljarchen, and that Temple. Tell me I don't have room again."

Shell, Fey, and Tyr started laughing. Even Talon cracked a smile. "We rest our case," Tyr managed after a bit. "Telki, we know you mean well, and you have a maternal instinct bigger than the whole of Nirn, but a lot of the time what these people want is just to have a normal, quiet life. There is nothing normal or quiet about your life, though they could always use your friendship."

"Not to mention how many of them are full-grown adults," Fey added dryly.

"So, why not let me help? I can and do catch and release people," Telki sniffed, pouting. "I don't adopt  _everybody_ , just the ones that need me. I'm fostering Sura, after all."

"We will send a few your way, then," Talon interjected, not having the heart to tell her that her very exuberance might scare some of them off. She might be the very thing a few of them needed. Sura certainly seemed to be doing better after only a few days.

Shell pouted at Telki, "I feel like you're looking to replace me already! Don't I get to the be the token assassin in the marriage for a bit?"

Telki gave her the most 'are you nuts' look in existence. "Shell, honey, that has to be the single most ridiculous thing you've ever said. Nobody but nobody could replace you. Besides, you're a spouse, and that dance card is decidedly full. We're only looking for kids now, and maybe a few honorary cousins 'n such."

"Oh, good," she smiled sweetly, "Because if you ever decide to try girls, I want to be very high up on that list." The low, pained growl behind Telki let her know what one spouse thought of that idea. A quick glance to the side showed Erandur mouthing a prayer, probably for patience, and poor Merc looked like he'd been hit with a stick.

"I'll keep that in mind," Telki gulped.

Tyr dropped his head to the table. "I don't think I was supposed to hear that." There were many, many things he did not want to know about his most difficult stepdaughter. That was one of them.

Laughing over Tyr's response allowed Telki to recover some of her aplomb. She tapped her teeth in thought. "Blythe, how difficult would it be to get an official copy of that vaguely worded kill order? Or the tea stained one? I wants some heavy duty ammunition when we crash the Council's party."

"I am a clerk," she said with dignity. "Shell has the copies in triplicate already."

"You guys are so awesome." Telki looked around at her husbands and the very silent Ulfric. "Okay, you guys have let me monopolize the talking, and I know I'm not the strategist of the group. What am I missing?"

"Who ordered the hit?" Shell said, ticking points off on her fingers. "Find that, and we have a starting place. Why isn't Tyr already on the throne? He's apparently some Lost Heir, so why are they trying to kill him? Why wasn't his father on the throne to begin with?"

"Because he was Dunmer," Tyr explained, as if it should be obvious. "They didn't want an elf on the human throne. Martin had him declared Heir secretly so he wasn't targeted after they found out he could wear the Amulet of Kings, but he wasn't even publicly crowned, let alone given a chance to name his Heir Apparent. Eventually, Papa would have been married to Martin's first daughter. That was what he told me, anyway," Tyr shrugged, looking a bit bitter about it all.

"Tyr, quit looking so sad. I want to hug you, and you're all the way over there, and Fey might get miffed with me."

"Your dance card is full," Fey replied with a smile, leaning her head on her husband's shoulder. Talon glanced out the window again. Telki squealed, wriggled out of Gideon's lap, skipped around the table, and hugged the pair of them.

"Did I mention I like to hug all my friends?" Telki dropped kisses on both heads, and then scurried back to her favorite seat, wriggling into place. She'd not missed Talon's preoccupation with the window. Her concerned gaze met Nala's, but saying anything right now would probably just add to his discomfort.

"I'm really not looking forward to working with a bunch of puffed up Imperial nobles that casually tried to kill me," Tyr groused lightly. "I might do something annoying, like tax wig powder or something."

"I think you were planning on ennobling Betsy and Bacon," Fey reminded him, squeezing his hand.

Tyr perked up, "Oh, right! That should piss them off."

"Sweetie, the fact they're going to have to bow and scrape to an upstart they thought better off dead is going to very much piss them off," Telki reminded him. "And I and my brood will be more than happy to come visit anytime you want to add extra insult to the injury."

Gideon smiled widely. "I could start a Seminary to Shor there. Spread the word, get their kids interested in the upright life. Won't that put a fox among the hens?"

"I like it!" he grinned, pointing at Gideon. "Filled with poetic symbolism and everything!"

"Okay," Shell thought she should get them back on track if they wanted to be out of there anytime soon. Besides, all that wiggling Telki was doing on Gideon was making her want to see if he was interested in taking a side trip to their rooms. His expression was delightful. "So we need to find out who, precisely, is trying to kill Tyr, and why—I mean, they must have something personal to gain from it, right?—and how to convince the other Elder Councilors that this isn't exactly a hostile takeover, just the rightful heir coming home. Mede doesn't have an heir, so we should probably just go ahead and slit all the contender's throats, but I suppose some of them can't be all bad? We should find out if any fall in the 'definitely kill' or 'should be sainted' categories, right?"

Telki grinned at Shell, glad she'd come far enough long to not just assume they were going to kill all the competition. "We can line them up, and I can point out who I want to keep, and who I'd just as soon send to keep Fifi company."

"He does abhor ugly humans," she said dryly.

"It doesn't seem to me like we can do a whole lot except gather information and a few possible preemptive strikes until Tyr makes a formal bid for the throne," Blythe said, nodding to him. "We'll know better once we know the motivations of those behind this. After all, Tyr came home with an Altmer bride. At least one is bound to think he's a Thalmor puppet dancing on her strings." By the eyerolls of half of those present, she gathered that had already come up at some point.

Nala had been chewing on an idea, and finally added her two septims. "You'd think there'd be some way to use the paper trail to find who ordered it, at least?"

"There is," Blythe said, tearing her eyes away from doing flirty things in Galmar's general direction to examine Nala. "I know which toady wrote it up, but not who paid him to do it, and more than a dozen noble families have their fortunes tied up in bonds to the Legions. As I told Shell, it would take a lot more coin or charm than I have to get him to tell." She smirked a bit, "However…"

"Oh, she's a devious one, I like her." Telki sat forward. "And as of this moment, you have as near an unlimited budget as one dungeoneering Dragonborn can supply."

"Well, I was going to point out that he has numerous copies of the so-called 'lusty' series," Blythe's eyes twinkled evilly. "The Argonian maid, the Bosmer apprentice, the Khajiit merchant…" she spread her hands as if to say "What can you do?"

"I have a bad feeling I know where this is going," Shell sighed. "Who am I flirting with?"

"The most worn copy is the Khajiit merchant one," Blythe was outright laughing now. "I've had to order him a new one twice." She'd made of point of being a requisitioner of curious items—only legal ones, but it was always interesting to see which people would show up wanting to know what was in her pockets. She probably had enough blackmail material to get half the middle hierarchy of the Legion to resign in embarrassment.

"Oh dear," Telki looked from one husband to the next.

"Ama," Wemie said with finality before her brothers-in-law's protective streaks could more than stir. "She's a trained counter-thief, and can dissemble better than your misleading truths."

"I haven't met Ama," Blythe said.

"Looks just like Nala," Shell supplied, "Only less…mage-y."

Blythe examined the mage critically enough the woman flushed under her fur. "Perfect," the Breton nodded. "Only other possible snag is catching the attention of any of the Young Ones in the city. And no, I don't know who they all are. My handler doesn't even know who they all are."

"We'll be trying to lay low anyway," Shell shrugged. "And there are hundreds of people of every race in the Imperial City."

"Ama can do the Telki thing, where's she's so bloody obvious you overlook her anyways, and she can do the sneaky 'fade into the background' thing." Nala waved her hand, "Never understood how she did it." Nala sniffed and added, "Besides, we grew up in Cyrodiil, fitting back in shouldn't be too hard."

"Great. I'll be back in my warehouse, so I won't be much help unless you come to me after work. It would look suspicious if I suddenly had friends," Blythe said with a little shrug. "I do wish you could visit me, though. It's been so boring since the last time Talon came around and convinced the clerk in the census bureau that his warehouse was haunted."

"Talon, I'm so proud of you!" Telki enthused. "And yes, we'll all be visiting. I mean to disappear your rodent problem. Okay, I'll get my mages to disappear your rodent problem, but you knew what I meant."

"You will have my undying gratitude," she said with feeling. "Other than that, are we all done here?"

"I guess so?" Telki looked around. She had the sneaking suspicion something was being forgotten, but she'd no idea what it was at this point. "Wemie, you're gonna fill Ama in?"

"I'll have someone bring Ama to Blythe's warehouse, so she can be briefed on who she needs to happen to. You may have to outfit her, though."

"I'll come to her," Blythe put in.

"Sam, you said this portal will be open until you decide to close it?" Galmar was rubbing his chin, thinking.

"Until I make another one, yes," the Daedra yawned.

Galmar nodded. "That's what I thought." He hefted Blythe over a shoulder, much to her evident approval. "We'll be seeing you tomorrow, then, Sam." Galmar nodded to Ulfric, "Until tomorrow, my liege," and disappeared to his rooms with a Blythe, who twiddled her fingers at Shell as she passed, vastly amused to be manhandled.

"I take it back, Gideon," Shell said, watching them go. "Apparently I am taking up matchmaking."

"Isn't it great?" Telki giggled, going limp in Gideon's lap with laughter.

"Actually, it's kind of creepy, in a sweet way? But then again, I know what kinds of things she gets up to, and the pictures in my head right now are not for polite company." Shell shuddered and shook her head.

"I like them," Sam put in.

"Since when are you polite company?" she retorted, raising her eyebrows at him sardonically.

"Someone for everyone," Telki sang from her Treenord perch, making Mara chuckle in Erandur's head. He twitched. "So, just to be clear, Sam, you're not going to overextend yourself or need to shift portals for the next two weeks-ish? I don't want to stress you or anything."

"There's plenty of stuff I can do around here," he said, caressing Merc's calf with a little half-smile on his face. "And in the Imper— _hic!—_ City. I can bounce too, don't forget. And I don't need portals to go back to the Grove, just from one spot on Nirn to another."

"You're family, I worry, get used to it. It's only going to get more fun the further along I get. Pregnancies do that."

"Don't worry, Bean," he said to her stomach, poking at it a little, "She's not scary unless scary things are involved."

"Aww, love you too, Sam." Telki blew him a kiss. "Okay, I need kid time, and then I need guy time. How about you, Shell? I think Merc and Sam may need some them time."

"Well, if the others still have the kids handled, I'd like to handle my fiancé," Shell dimpled at them.

Gideon reached a long arm out, and pulled Shell onto his lap with Telki. He leaned low to whisper into her ear. "And what if your fiancé wants to handle you, instead?"

Pretending to consider, she said lightly, "I might need some convincing." Gideon nosed her eartip, then kissed it lightly. Convincing, indeed.

"And that's way more than any big sister needed to know. Nala? Coming?" Wemie got up from her table, nose scrunched from entirely too many unwanted mental images. Half the time, she still expected to see Telki in a diaper.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Between the two of us, we should be able to give Ama a fairly clear rundown. I think. Talon? Do you think one of you should talk to her now? Or just let Blythe coach her when we get there?" Nala was absently twisting a lock of her hair. Telki hadn't been kidding about him wanting to escape out the window. While he was harder to read than most, she could see watching Tyr and Fey hurt him, and the sight of it made her ache.

"I am unfamiliar with the man, so Blythe is her best source of information," he said, looking calmer than usual.

"Okay, fine, I want your company because I'm not sure Wemie and I won't miss telling her something important from the meeting. Accompany us anyways?" Nala asked.

He inclined his head after a moment, stepping away from the window and joining them at the door.

Nala heaved a deep breath of relief. "Thank you. Nothing in guarding a caravan or rescuing idiots remotely prepared us for this sort of stuff." She held out an arm for Talon to take, having already gotten used to close contact with him.

"I suspect that's where growing up with Telki comes in useful," he replied, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow politely. Wemie let them leave first, giving them a little privacy.

Nala tilted her head, considering his words from all sides, but not making the connection. "How so?"

"You saw how Blythe did not jump when Sam appeared?" he asked. "She is used to mice suddenly appearing. One type of insanity helps inure you to others."

Nala considered that. "Except her life wasn't this…insane growing up. Yes, she was quirky and friendly, and adopting everything in sight, but three going on four husbands? Adopting Daedric princes? Very not the same as finding fieldmice nesting in your bed."

"Do I want to know?" he asked after a moment.

"Because the orphaned bunnies had the dresser drawers."

"And she thinks she won't adopt every Young One that comes through Windhelm," he shook his head.

"Did you hear that list of houses? I think she could." Nala shook her head, amazed, "And to think we grew up in a trading post, having to share one room to four girls."

"Nala, do you have any idea how many Young Ones there are?" he asked, glancing at her. Her eyes were glowing slightly blue in the dim light.

"No idea."

"Including the children, there are hundreds," he said.

"Dear mercy, get those kids placed before she spots them!" Nala stared up at him in not-so-mock horror.

"Our thoughts exactly," he actually chuckled slightly at that.

"Awww," Nala beamed up at him. "You have a lovely laugh. Definitely a sound I want to hear more often."

He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he simply cleared his throat and kept walking. She had the same look in her eyes as she did when she saw a fascinating new spell and it was making him unaccountably nervous. He still did not wish to be treated as a puzzle box, but their interactions were becoming less searching on her part and more companionable.

"Talon, are you okay?" Nala didn't bother to hide her concern as he went from chuckling and happy to quiet and walking fast. Her little legs were not meant for those speeds, and she found herself skipping to keep up. "Okay, either slow down, or carry me. I'm not a bunny!"

He slowed, giving her an amused look at that last comment, especially given her white coloring. "Forgive me. I tend to walk faster when thinking." Starting off again at a more reasonable pace for her shorter legs, he asked, "Were you going?"

"Honestly, I've no idea what I would add to anything in the Imperial city. If they need a bookworm mage, I'll go, otherwise, I'll stay here and research spells with Pearl and Frankie." Nala whispered, as if sharing a confidence, "Actually, it's me and Pearl researching. Frankie, I think, is just Pearl worshipping."

"I think you should come," he stated.

Nala gave him a look so full of hope, one would think he'd offered her the sun, moons, and all the stars. "Then I'll come."

Talon glanced down at her curiously. That had been remarkably easy. "I cannot help but wonder at our host, however," he said, slightly changing the subject. "If he is one of Sanguine's followers, there is no telling what we will find."

"Well, he's willing to help, and Sam is willing to entrust his Muffin with him. Proclivities aside, I don't think he'd endanger Mercutio, and probably not his mead supplier, i.e. Telki." Nala shuddered. "For another, Rommy."

"What of him?" Talon asked. The former Champion of Cyrodiil had been quite useful keeping Sanguine in line, ironically enough. He found himself missing the Daedra. He'd found Rommy able to understand him in ways many others did not.

Nala looked at him surprised. "You know they are friends? Sam would not endanger Telki because that would endanger their friendship. Plus, angry Rommy? No thank you."

"I do not think Sanguine would allow Telki to be endangered, no," Talon said, seeing she'd misunderstood, "I am wondering how embarrassing this is going to be. He would not have chosen this particular follower were there not some entertainment value in it for him."

"Oooh. Now I see," Nala giggled. "Yeah, he is mischief incarnate, isn't he? I do wonder what it is. What you want to bet it has something to do with the cat?"

"We shall see," he said, entering the inner courtyard with her to carefully controlled chaos. He spotted Ama right away by her coloring. "Do you wish to explain our plan to your twin?"

"And miss an opportunity to hear your voice? Hah!" Nala grinned up at him. "Besides, you're much more concise and less confusing."

"I should have known," he heaved an inward sigh, then raised his voice. "Ama, do you have a moment?"

Ama held up a finger to Talon, then whistled shrilly across the carnage to Lydia on the other side, pointing to Talon and Nala once she had her attention. At Lydia's nod, Ama happily loped over to them.

"Hey Handsome, what's shaking?" Ama graced them both with a wide smile, her eyes lightly landing on the joined arms, but not commenting or staring.

"We want you to flirt with an Imperial bureaucrat in order to discover who paid him to requisition assassins," Talon informed her.

"Don't you have Young Ones better equipped for that kind of assignment?" Ama asked. "I'm a counter-thief, not a spy."

"He is partial to Khajiit; Altmer lords, for the most part, are not." Well, a few of them were, but he wouldn't be bringing that up unless and until it was pertinent.

"Great, one of the few races the Thalmor don't bother Young One-ing."

"They have little need to," he reminded her. "Elsweyr is part of the Dominion, and the Khajiit people as a whole feel they owe the Altmer for restoring the Moons. They are willing to spy without coercion, and submit children to training without overmuch argument."

"Oooh, yeah, about that," Ama grinned widely. "Elseweyr may or may not be as Dominioned as the Thalmor believed. I may have news you need to hear."

"Apparently you should have attended the meeting," Talon said with a single eyebrow eloquently raised.

"And what does an incipient Khajiit rebellion have to do with the price of rice in Cyrodiil?" Ama countered.

Talon stared at her for a moment, his face as tranquil as a statue of Julianos. "I occasionally find you all very frustrating," he said at last.

"Sorry? Honestly, I figured y'all had enough on your plate, what with the assassinations and getting Tyr crowned. If nothing else, I thought the Khajiit rebellion would split Thalmor attention, and make the Cyrodiil situation easier. It's going to happen whether we help it along or not. Am I wrong, or overlooking something you find obvious?"

"It would have been a good thing to know," he said dryly. "I am also slightly curious if this came about because they discovered what truly happened with the Moons?" He knew the attempt to turn the beastfolk back into elves by removing the influence of the moon phases would come back to haunt the Thalmor eventually, but he had been unaware they'd discovered it for themselves.

"Khajiit caravans make their way all across Tamriel. Yes, we've known for a while." Ama grinned slyly, "It suited Khajiit purposes to be thought docile and thoroughly yoked, so that once everything was in place, there'd be little the Thalmor could do to stop it. Considering even you had no idea, I think their plan worked beautifully, yes?"

His eyes were bright with mirth at the idea of the entire race luring the Thalmor into a false sense of security before biting. "I hesitate to point out how catty this plan sounds."

"Oh, Talon! Bad Talon! Punny Talon!" Ama sputtered through her laughter. Nala found herself laughing so hard, she was practically hanging from Talon's arm.

Ulfric and Wemie came upon them, and to call them amazed would be putting it mildly. Seeing them so happy and casual together allowed a tight worry in Wemie's chest to loosen. She hadn't even realized it was there until then.

Wemie had waited for Talon and Nala to get a headstart, what she hadn't expected was Ulfric to clear his throat behind her to catch her attention. She turned around to find a very solemn, and slightly nervous High King behind her.

"My lady, would you allow me the honor of walking you back?" Well, after her conversation with Telki she couldn't be completely surprised. What did surprise her was that the nervous fluttering in her stomach wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"Of course, Jarl Ulfric." Wemie felt her breath catch. Never would she have thought Ulfric's icey blue eyes could warm so, and his smile. Honestly, if he'd bothered to smile at his enemies, she fully believed the Civil War would have ended that much quicker. It was a smile that could melt ice wraiths.

She thoroughly disregarded Tyr's childish antics, giving her a cheery thumbs up amidst entirely too much handwaving. Thankfully, Fey put an end to his antics, quickly capturing his wayward hands and otherwise occupying the five year old caught in an adult body. The less said about Telki's satisfied smile, the better. Cats caught in a creamery couldn't look that smug.

Ulfric deftly tucked her hand over his arm with practiced ease, and walked her out the door. He didn't speak until they were well out of earshot. "Sometimes, I am sure I am the only adult amongst my closest companions. Less a High King, and more a keeper of small children. Something tells me you know this feeling well."

Wemie smiled. "Yes, three baby sisters left me believing I was the last adult standing on more than a few occasions."

"Your parents?"

"More often than not, occupied with the trading post. Rihandi and I were often left to mind the littles."

Ulfric walked with her in companionable silence for a bit. Wemie found herself enjoying his bulk next to hers, and thinking about all the mischief her sisters got her into growing up.

"I wonder, would you care to have a very mature and adult meal, free of childish interference?"

"I…" Wemie could feel the bottom drop out of her stomach. What should she say? It was  _King_ Ulfric! Did she really want to take on that headache? She cautioned herself mentally not to immediately go after that particular hare. It was a private supper. It may just be that Ulfric needed a break from shenanigans, and was offering her the same courtesy.

And maybe Sanguine would take holy orders and join a chaste monastery in the mountains.

"I think I would be delighted to join you for supper." There was that summer warm smile again, and Wemie felt it jolt from her chest to her toes. If it was a mistake, she had a feeling it would be the best mistake of her life while looking into those crinkly blue eyes.

And that brought them round the corner to a tiny atronach racing over, only to be scooped up and cuddled by Murril, who didn't seem to mind that it was made of rocks and toys and giving off the occasional spark. She looked up at them, blinked, turned her green eyes to Ulfric, decided she wasn't going to wait for him to ask for his coat back, and ran away.

"What was that all about?" Wemie looked after her quickly scampering form.

Ulfric chuckled. "She's still wearing my coat. I wonder, is it because it's mine, or because it's furred?"

Wemie tilted her head, studying the little girl for any sign one way or the other. Murril put the atronach down and squealed in glee as it instantly went after Demeus, chasing him around the yard. She followed, waving her hands around happily. "No idea, really."

"Wemie!" a small redheaded cannonball in a fluffy coat launched himself at the tawny Khajiit from one of the gutters a story above them.

Wemie grew up with three impetuous younger siblings who were far too fond of jumping out of trees, soft landing below or no. She caught the little cannonball before it really registered that someone was falling on her, thanking Aetherius for muscle memory.

"Hi, Wemie!" Orien chirped cheerfully, cuddling her.

"Hey precious boy. What were you doing up there?" Wemie relished the cuddle; kid cuddles were her secret weakness. She glanced over to the indulgent look on Ulfric's face and realised that it wasn't so secret anymore.

"Blossom is teaching me stuff!" he said, looking up and waving to his twin.

"You are terrible," she sighed, sitting easily on the gutter he'd overbalanced from. Though, given that he seemed to really like Wemie, she wasn't sure it had been an accident. "How am I supposed to help you when you do stuff like that?"

"Momma says I don't need to learn it," he reminded her.

"Then you'll never be able to take over your own stabbing!" she cried, trying for the fed-up adult tone she'd heard so often.

"I'm alright with that," Orien said, looking a little uneasy. "I would rather hug people."

Wemie gave Blossom a look. "There is a time for stabbing, and a time for hugging. Sometimes, a hug gets you further than a stab. Now, get down here, I'm running a deficit of Blossom hugs."

The girl considered this for a moment, then shrugged. " _ **FEIM!"**_  she Shouted, then tumbled off her perch, landing feet-first on the ground below and shaking herself out with a pleased expression on her ghostly face.

Wemie looked at the girl. "You know I had three younger sisters, right? I could have easily caught you. Now I have to wait before I can hug you, and…does your dad know you do that?" Ulfric was roaring with laughter behind her.

"After I did it without becoming eth-eer-ee-all, Da got mad and said I couldn't do dangerous stuff like that anymore. Since I can't get hurt like this, it's not dangerous," she explained as the Shout wore off and she puffed back into solidity.

Ulfric finally got his laughter under control. "Little one, you are exactly the daughter your grandfather wished for Tyr."

Blossom wrinkled her nose at him in puzzlement. "Huh?"

Wemie's lips twitched, "Shorter version: you're just like your dad."

"No I'm not!" she cried. "He's huge! He can't hide! He makes noise all the time!"

Wemie knelt down to comfort the little girl. "That's just window dressing, Blossom. Your father has a big beautiful spirit, and yours is just as bright and wonderful. That's what we mean."

She thought on this a moment. "I don't understand," she admitted, wondering if she had just really become a ghost for Wemie to see her spirit. "Why would someone dress windows? Who makes clothes for them?"

Wemie's mouth lost the fight, and let a full smile spread across her face. "It's an expression. Ever see a house that looks lovely on the outside, but the inside is a mess? That's all it means. Something to decorate the outside, but doesn't reveal the inside."

"I'm not allowed to sneak into houses anymore," Blossom informed her matter-of-factly. "I scare the tax-paying-citizens and some of them have axes."

Ulfric had to lean against the wall, before he fell over laughing. Tyr's father Orien had garnered more than a few grey hairs over his and Tyr's misadventures. More than once, he'd fervently prayed Tyr would have one just like him. Blossom was every single one of those prayers come home to roost, and then some. He did not envy his friend, at all.

Orien smiled sweetly at his sister and held out his arm. She walked over and cuddled up to him and Wemie without further invitation. "You smell nice," she observed.

"Thank you, you smell nice, and are perfectly huggably nice," Wemie scooped her on up. "Now, we need to go talk to Ama. We have news for her. Your Majesty? Are you suitably recovered?" she asked with heavy irony, watching Ulfric gasp for breath.

"Indeed." Ulfric bowed his head, and extended an arm for Orien. The little boy gleefully made the switch, cuddling into the warm, broad chest. Ulfric easily reclaimed Wemie's arm. Cuddling the adorable boy was just a bonus. Orien's delighted squeal as he dove sideways into his "uncle's" grasp didn't hurt, either.

They rounded the next corner and stopped. Peals of gleeful laughter greeted them. "Well, you don't see that everyday," was Wemie's only observation. An amused Talon stood in the middle of a Khajiit puddle. Nala still clung limply to his arm, while mostly sitting on his feet, and Ama laid on her back, laughing for all she was worth.

The Altmer looked up at the sound of her voice. "Apparently I should never again attempt puns," he said dryly. "I appear to have broken them."

"No! Not broken, and yes, more puns. All the puns. Pun away, punster," Nala managed to gasp, her laughter subsided to giggles. "He just learned the entire Khajiit nation conned the Thalmor, and then called it catty." Nala's eyes danced as she faux whispered to Wemie, "I think he's just miffed he didn't already know about it."

Talon retaliated by placidly lifting her to her feet with the arm she held, helping her balance neatly, "It is not often I get such surprises," he admitted.

"Bigger question: do you like surprises?" Nala felt her heart flutter at the easy way he brought her to her feet. She always had been a sucker for the strong silent types. Add in the dizzying intellect, and well, she already knew she was a goner, but nice to have it confirmed she picked a doozy.

"That depends entirely on the surprise in question," he replied reasonably.

"Okay, what kind of surprise would make you smile again?"

He grin softly. "I believe that question counts. Other than that, it would not be a surprise if you were told what to do," he countered.

"Then I'll just have to hope I'm surprising enough," Nala quipped, the butterflies that had taken up permanent residence doing loop-de-loops and barrel rolls. She made him smile! He thought she was surprising! And in a good way! "Besides, I have three secret weapons full of surprises."

"I shall take that as a warning and pack for the Shivering Isles," he rejoined.

"Then we'll just have to ask Rom to bring you back." Nala caught Ama, behind Talon's back, applauding with the widest grin she'd ever seen on her sister's face. She could only imagine the looks on Ulfric's and Wemie's. Ulfric was probably facepalming. He seemed to like that one. She rather imagined Wemie probably was gaping like a fish. She hoped she didn't swallow any of that dirty gravel getting her jaw off the ground.

Blossom looked like someone had held her upside down and shook her. "Talon just smiled," she said, looking very uncertain. "Is he allowed to do that?"

"Yes, he is. I hope he finds many more reasons to smile, living with us." Wemie did finally pulled her jaw off the ground. She understood now, and Aetherius willing, she would be able to help, not hinder.

Talon nodded to his pupil, "Living under Faloniril did not give any of us overmuch reason to smile."

She considered this, "Yeah, he was a butthead," she agreed. "So was your frown one of those 'face gets stuck that way' things people keep warning me about?"

Just as solemnly, Talon said simply, "Yes."

"I'm never frowning again," Blossom declared, frowning. "I might scare Orien."

"Hmmm, I think I can help with that. We can't be scaring your brother, now, can we?" Wemie proceeded to tickle Blossom 'til her giggles rang high and clear.

"I hear my daughter laughing; this can only be really good or really bad," Tyr declared, walking in behind them. Fey took in Ama still laying on the ground and gave her an amused, inquiring look.

"Talon punned me to the ground," Ama said with mock seriousness. "And then he smiled, scaring Blossom, so Wemie had to fix it."

Fey transferred the look to Talon. "I didn't even know you knew how to pun."

"It has been known to happen," he replied after a moment.

"Looks like his punning has been put off for another fifty years. At least, two giggling Khajiit would scare me off it," Tyr said, reaching out for Blossom, who hopped over with none of her initial reserve. "So why didn't you two explain that it was your nap time?"

"Because we don't want it to be nap time," Blossom pouted, then sucked her bottom lip back in, afraid her face would get stuck that way.

"Can Wemie tuck me in?" Orien asked. "Please?"

"I do not mind as long as your parents don't mind, but most parents enjoy that particular task themselves," Wemie said gently.

"We can tuck him in later after he kicks all the covers off," Tyr assured her.

"Or Blossom steals them," Fey added.

"Or Blossom steals them," he agreed, nodding. "Though if that happens, there will be a lot of unwinding before any tucking is possible."

"This place is cold," Blossom complained. "Uncle Ulfwic, can't you order it to warm up?"

"Would that I could, little one, but I understand your mage friends can make you a warmth bracelet," Ulfric had regained his composure, and was once again the upright and dignified ruler, at least for the moment. Tyr was present, it wouldn't last long.

"Tell you what," Nala promised. "You and Orien take your naps like you should, and I'll have something nice and warm for you when you wake up. What's your favorite color?"

"If it's a sweetroll, I like them golden brown," Blossom announced.

"I like purple!" Orien yelled. "Like Blossom's eyes!"

"What about my eyes?" Tyr pouted at him teasingly.

"They're not as pretty as Blossom's," Orien said apologetically.

Blossom looked around like she wasn't sure people weren't eavesdropping then whispered at Nala, "I like green," so softly she could barely be heard.

Nala smiled, then whispered back, just as softly. "Then I shall have you the prettiest green bracelet to keep you warm when you wake up. How does that sound?" Blossom actually squealed.

"My baby girl interested in jewelry? Am I awake?" Fey asked her husband, who just shrugged.

"I still ask myself that every morning I wake up next to you," he said.

"And the answer is always 'no,' because you don't wake up until your third cup of coffee," she laughed.

"I am maligned," he said dramatically. "Ulfric, old friend, why aren't you defending me?"

"And put myself in the line of fire you willingly drew?" Ulfric laughed at his friend, clapping him on the shoulder. "Is this not the happy wedded bliss you were rhapsodizing about just a few short weeks ago?"

Tyr gave him a look that clearly stated he was sizing up all his options. "I could retaliate, or I could put the children to bed. Since my wife is here, I suppose I'm putting the children to bed," he said at length.

"Good choice,  _mellani_ ," Fey said dryly. "Wemie, were you wanting to assist, or did you have business?"

Wemie snuck a telling look at Ulfric, and then down at the pleading face of Orien. "There is nothing on my schedule I cannot accomplish after singing Orien to sleep." Orien made a happy sound and reached for her. Wemie took the child, where he snuggled happily in her arms. She rather thought he liked the feel of her short fur.

"Is seven tomorrow evening to your liking?" Ulfric made his bow to them, already planning arrangements needed to make supper something special for Wemie.

"Yes, seven. I shall be there." Wemie felt a feeling in the pit of her stomach akin to that of a falcon's stoop. She looked down to Orien, snuggled in her arms. "Well, little man, let's get you down for your nap, shall we?" Wemie followed Tyr and Fey to their rooms, where she left two sleeping children dreaming of the lattice dance spinning over the sands of Elsweyr.


	23. Disjoins remorse from Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Invasion of Cyrodiil commences, rather subtly. Who knew?
> 
>  
> 
> Image provided by the Awesome Sir Douglas of Fir.

 

Sanguine looked half asleep, cuddling with Merc on the bench in the house, waiting for everyone to gather. Of course, he wasn't sleepy at all, he just liked cuddling Merc. If they'd had time for a leisurely morning, cuddling wouldn't exactly be what they were doing, at least, not right away. He hoped these people appreciated this. There was only so much…he thought of his special mead and his boyfriend and went back to grumbling.

He was getting soft, really. He might need to stage an orgy in the Legion camps again, get his blood moving. Then that adorably angry Breton Young One could hand him another receipt for damages.

"Rise and shine, handsomes mine!" Telki sang from the door.

"Why is she so  _happy?"_ Tyr whined, looking about as asleep as Sam did, only he actually was. Fey had dragged him out an an unholy hour that morning, laughingly pushing him out the door and through the predawn streets to Telki's house. Well, his brain insisted it was pre-dawn. There was a bit too much light for it.

"That's part of pregnancy for some, dear," Fey explained, petting his hair lightly.

"It's unnatural," he complained.

"I have bacon, eggs, and coffee," tempted Telki.

"There's some left after Gideon?" he asked hopefully.

Telki snorted indelicately. "Honey, I cooked enough for the barracks. Come 'n get 'em."

Seriously considering swearing blood-brothership with the other Dragonborn out of gratitude, he lurched to his feet and stumbled over. He'd ignore his wife laughing at him softly as he bounced off a table. Actually, he thought, once Telki had put a cup of coffee in his hands and he could physically feel the cobwebs being swept from his synapses, that idea had some merit. If they had tried to kill Telki, too, then they must feel that both Dragonborn had a claim to the throne. The thought was a little vague thanks to the early hour, but he tucked it in the back of his mind to mull over. Maybe Rommy marrying her would be enough kinship to make it moot anyway.

"Everyone ready for a quick trip to Cyrodiil by Sammy Portals Incorporated?" Telki started setting out platters of hotcakes, sweetrolls, and bacon and eggs for the obligate carnivores as the rest of her extended family made their way to the table. Gideon was already there, had been with the first whiff of bacon on the breeze, bed head and hastily donned trousers and naught else. Shell was very appreciative of this, and had curled up against his side with a cup of tea. She, of course, was fully dressed and had a blanket pulled around her to boot.

"And we'll be able to go back and forth alright?" Fey asked anxiously, thinking of her little ones still sleeping peacefully back at the Palace of Kings, curled around each other and Bacon, who somehow had wound up out of her tub and into the bed with them last night. Since the blankets weren't damp, they'd just left her there rather than risk waking the children. Pearl was awake and watching them, a stack of books higher than her waist sitting beside her waiting for her annotations.

"It'll be— _hic!_ —fine," Sam assured her, face still pressed into Merc's chest. "I've done this sort of thing for my followers before. Granted, they were all drunk, so if you feel the world dipping a— _hic!_ —bit, just ignore it."

Nala, face redder than the tomatoes in the vegetable basket, hid her face in her teacup. To think she offered herself up to Sanguine to learn a spell she was incapable of casting. Aedra above, and Talon had heard her. She felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. He tended to take things said like that literally. What must he think of her after that? She was tempted to open a pocket dimension for herself and pull it in after her.

Sam glanced up at her and snickered, wrapping his arms around Merc and snuggling a bit closer. "Bite into a— _hic!—_ pepper, Nala?" he asked.

"Just waiting for Nirn to swallow me whole."

"Why?" Shell asked, reaching out and snagging a pear.

"Just remembering what an ass I made of myself the first time I saw Sam open a portal, that's all." Really, how'd the dimensional pocket spell go again? She did not need this many witnesses to her embarrassment.

"You're not the first— _hic!—_ mage to think that was something they could— _hic!—_ do. In fact, if you were able to get enough power going, you might even— _hic!—_ manage," Sam said. "Of course, it'd be really— _hic!—_ unstable."

Nala's head came up and her eyes widened. "Merc could learn it! Or if you had a large enough magicka battery…Like the Dwemer used for the lifts, perhaps…" Nala scrabbled around for a napkin and a charcoal piece, and started scribbling. "There, look at that, is it feasible?" She tossed the scribbled notes down between Merc and Sam.

Sam looked at them and yawned. He might look like a Breton, but magical scholar he was not. He did like the way Merc's eyes were lighting up with interest, though. He rather thought Talon was thinking something similar about Nala as the man walked in from fetching Blythe and paused, taking in the scene. People always overlooked the effect enthusiasm had on other people. It was adorable.

"So, if the spell could be tied off to a big enough magicka reserve, and really, a large enough plot of nirnroot could conceivably do it, if Sinderion's writings are believable, we could basically have a permanent portal not dependent on Sam."

"Well, the Ayleids did it, why not you?" the Daedra shrugged. "Of course, theirs have to be— _hic!—_ activated, but they collect power from starlight."

Nala was transported. "Star-powered portals? How did they collect the energy from stars? Where could I find research on it?" She turned overbright eyes and a mischievous smile to Talon. "Want to go picking through the rare book section at the Imperial College with me?"

He blinked, "I'd suggest starting with the Wells or Welkynd Stones," he said, before he rightly thought about it. That smile boded trouble equal to anything Telki or Shell could do.

"Alright, you have maps, lore on them we could research? I mean, really, if something happened to Sam, I don't fancy being stuck 'behind enemy lines' as it were. I like backups to my backups. Oh, I wonder if Augie could be any help with this." Nala snatched Wemie's napkin and filled it with more scribbles, notes, and ideas to research. "Hmm, may want to cross reference Varla stones, too."

Talon pulled a small sketchbook out of his beltpouch, opened it to a blank page, and wordlessly placed it between her and Telki's napkins.

"Oh, thank you, shug," Nala said absently as she pulled the sketchbook to her and wordlessly filled it with ideas and possibilities for a permanent gate.

He glanced up at Telki, "Should I inquire who Augie is, or would that ruin her train of thought?" He'd been around mages and mage-students enough to realize how delicate a tangent could be. He'd had several pupils just as taken away with a concept, though it was refreshing to see someone wrapped up in an idea not meant to kill someone. Nala's eyes in particular tended to glow a brighter blue when she was thoroughly taken by a concept.

"She may mean the Auger of Dunlain. He's rather hard to explain. I can introduce you next time we get up to Winterhold." Telki was giving Nala a very amused look. Talon might not know what it meant she let that 'shug' slip, but she sure did. Nala wasn't in the habit of throwing endearments about like candy at a parade.

"I would be interested in seeing the College," he said, leaning over and grabbing a roll for himself. "It is one place I have yet to visit, though I have passed through Winterhold. Of course, that was before…" he shrugged.

Telki raised an eyebrow at Talon. "Oh really? Interesting. The Auger was a student, who,  _ahem,_ really got into his studies, and now looks like a glowing ball sitting atop a well in the deepest hidden chamber below the College. He also knows things, hence 'auger'." Telki tapped her teeth a moment, "Although, these days, he could show up in any of the wells, after the Ancano thing. That kinda, upped his energy levels and tied him to the whole College."

"I heard about Ancano," Talon said, giving her a thoughtful look.

"One of the few times I truly considered just ending a man on sight. Now, I rather wished I had." Telki's mouth twisted, remembering the damage Ancano caused. Mirabelle still limped, and Severin rarely left his small retirement cottage in Falkreath, leaving her Archmage with his full blessings. She hated to consider what might have happened if she'd been any later; why, someone might have died!

"If you hadn't, we would have," Fey interjected, looking up from where she was examining Nala's scribblings. "It was still being decided who."

"Well, y'all were taking too long, because that Eye was about to explode and take all of us with it," Telki stuck her tongue out at Fey. Amazing she felt comfortable enough to tease her like that, but there it was. Maybe it was baby hormones, who knew?

"That is what they were afraid of," Talon confirmed, leaning against a pillar. "His run-ins with the Psijic Order raised enough eyebrows that they considered he had gone mad."

"Totally bonkers and then some. I don't think even Sheo wanted him," Telki affirmed.

"His orders were to make arrangements to move the Eye from the College to the shore below, where it would have been transported to an alternate location for study," Fey revealed. "He refused. Said he was making headway on his own."

"Is that what he called it?" Telki raised eyebrows.

"Talon!" Nala interjected, waving a hand at him without looking up, "Look here, if we use this principle, and that law of similarity…do you see it?"

He considered what she'd put down, then glanced at the napkins, then back at Nala. Wordlessly, he handed her a ruler.

Nala huffed, took the ruler, then measured off a bit of napkin, cut it, and wound an end around the ruler to make her own compass, grumbling the whole time. "So, if Eiddelar's maxim is true, and Feithen's proximity correlation, and if we can find a Varla stone, or one of those star powered stones…think we could get one the size of, oh, a cart? Yeah, a cart-sized stone would do well…" Nala was off and murmuring again, Talon's sketchbook becoming home to detailed diagrams and scaled sketches of her proposed permagate.

Telki's eyes were dancing in mirth. She sidled up to Talon. "Thank you for trying to save my napkins, it was a heroic effort. At least they're going to a good cause."

"I'm not certain Nala's going to be leaving this table today," he said with some amusement, then caught the look Fey was giving him, and frowned slightly. He was normally able to read her expressions, but that one was unfamiliar to him. The expression melted to faint mirth, and she rolled her eyes. Well, at least she was getting comfortable with him again.

"So, restricted and heavily guarded and warded rare book section of the Imperial College? We're on for a visit, yes? Yes? Take me today? Please and thank you?"

"You want me to break you into the library?" Talon asked incredulously.

"Come on, Talon," Shell smirked at him, "Live a little."

"Having a backup at least in progress would be very useful," Fey put in, golden eyes shining as she watched Nala's progress. "And it was the worst kept secret among Faloniril's Young Ones that you actually enjoyed teaching the older mage students. One of them reported that you almost smiled once."

"It was a grimace," he said automatically.

"We won't have any leads right away," Blythe of all people put in, little grin on her face that raised all the hair on his arms, much like when someone was aiming a Lightning Bolt at him. "Why not go explore this while the rest of them set up your base?"

"She's going for the archive anyway. It'd make me feel better if she had a level-headed partner with her," Wemie offered. She never looked up from her stack of hotcakes. "When she's like this, she's almost as bad as Telki."

"Hey! I resemble that remark!" Wemie looked up and blew a kiss to her sister. Telki raspberried back at her.

Sighing, feeling as if everyone knew something—or thought they knew something—he didn't, he nodded, realized Nala couldn't see it, and said, "Alright."

"Yes! Thank you, so, come look at this, and tell me if I'm missing something. I think I accounted for all the variables, but that's usually when I miss something obvious, please and thank you?" Nala held her brainstormed collection of notes and calculations out to him for him to look over, for all the world looking like a student awaiting teacher's approval.

He took them gently, glancing over them as he replied, "Such as where to get a Welkynd stone that size?"

"That's what the trip to the archive is for, silly."

"I will be able to judge better after I do some research," he told her. Hoping he didn't regret this, he handed her notes back to her and grabbed a plate before Telki started pouting at him. Blythe looked quite content scooting in next to Shell, the two of them gossiping like schoolgirls, but he took his a bit further off, watching and thinking.

"Woah, isn't this an interesting morning tableau, what'd I miss?" Ama came slopping into the room, a light dusting of snow in her wind whipped hair giving away where she'd done her morning stretches.

Mercutio looked over to Sam, watching to see if he was going to stop him again with a bite of something or actually let him speak this time. "Nala, may I look at your notes?" The Breton looked back at him innocently, quite as if he hadn't been popping bits of breakfast into his boyfriend's mouth every time it opened to speak.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure. Maybe you'll see something I missed." Nala tucked her hair behind her ear, and handed the book of notes over, and then turned her attention to her plate, her idea blitz over for the moment.

Merc studied the notes and diagrams, eyebrows rising. "Well, we'll need to flesh this out and double check some things, but it does look feasible. What are you basing the energy requirements on?"

"Oh, I was Sighting Sam that second portal. Something was hinky, I wanted a Look." Nala wrinkled her nose at Sam, "And I still missed he was a Daedric Prince. Go me."

"I am very good at hiding in plain sight," Sam told her smugly, popping a grape in his mouth, then one in Merc's.

"So where are we putting this and when are we leaving?" Blythe asked, her plate empty as if by magic. "Because if this is going to take a while, I'm going to go see if Galmar can move."

Telki tilted her head. "There's a closet down in my cellar, right next to the wine racks. The kids are already trained to stay out of there."

"Ooh," Sam said, slithering out of his seat in a way that defied physics and skipping off to see. Hastily patting his lips clean on a napkin, Mercutio was right on his heels, and Nala followed with her new book and a piece of charcoal, eager to catch anything else she'd missed the first time.

"Hmm," Telki had a thoughtful look on her face. "Wonder if there's any houses for sale in the Imperial city?"

"Probably where we're going, there are," Shell said lazily, glancing up at her. "Talon and I had a bit of a talk with Sam about the location. It's pretty much what we need—shabby genteel area. Going slightly shady. Big houses, old money running out and unable to keep the familial homes up, so the middle class moving in, two or three crafting families to a house. The families haven't quite gotten to that street, so it's mostly empty places and dying bloodlines."

"Have to admit, having our own place would take some of the strain off Sam's devotee. Plus, vacation home," Telki snickered.

"Do you really want to trek your entire tribe down to the Imperial City?" Tyr asked her, raising his eyebrows. "Especially considering you'd probably drag half the city back with you?"

Telki shrugged, "There is going to be a door connecting my house to the Imperial City. This is more planning for the inevitable curious critter invasion than anything else. Plus, having an established house there means we're not stranded if Sam has to shut the portal for some ungodly reason."

A cat jumped up on the table, stared at them all a moment, and curled up in the fruit bowl. It was a short haired, mottled thing, with crooked whiskers and bent tail that twitched every so often around the edge of the bowl.

"Well, hello, where did you come from?" Telki sized the cat up, wondering if this was the cat from Sam's devotee. "Something says we need to go see that portal in my basement." Telki scooped the kitty up with practiced ease, letting him lounge comfortably in her arms, and led the way down to her basement.

The portal was already erected when they all went down, the whirling sphere of black light making faint, low whistling noises, but Sam and Merc were ignoring it in favor of looking around the crates and under benches. Nala was scribbling furiously.

"Lose something, guys?" Telki smirked, stroking the cat in her arms.

"Flavianus!" Sam cried cheerfully, walking over and taking the cat, which purred loudly.

"So, I'm guessing kitty volunteered to check the portal for us?"

"He just came to say hello," Sam said, rubbing his face in the cat's stomach. Flavianus licked his head. Without another word, Sam turned and marched through the portal.

"Well, are we all ready, then?" Telki looked around her, taking inventory of this first foray group. Talon had snuck down behind them, helping Blythe with the single bag she had. She was watching the portal with a doubtful look on her face, all her hair trying to stick to whatever was closest. Tyr was squinting at it like he expected the Oblivion Crisis was going to start again, while Fey simply looked eager to get this over with.

"Looks like I got here right in time. Were you really going to shove off without so much as a goodbye kiss?" There stood Galmar in the doorway to the cellar, looking as big, bluff, and gruff as always.

Blythe looked surprised, then pleased. "You were sleeping," she reminded him.

Galmar stomped down the stairs and hugged her up close to him. "You, missy, are worth waking up for." He bent her over and proceeded to kiss the breath out of her, allowing her to demonstrate without a shadow of a doubt that she wasn't shy and had even less shame than Shell.

Sam poked his head through the portal, expression very interested. "Well, no need to ask what kept you all," he smirked.

"Just givin' this one a reason to come back quick as she can," Galmar finally came up for air, nodding decisively to Blythe.

"I'll bring something pretty you can tear off me with your teeth," she agreed, patting his chest.

Galmar squeezed her close with an appreciative growl. "Sure you have to go today?"

"All my pretty, tearable things are over there," she replied, face shining with pleasure as she jerked a thumb at the portal.

"Looks like I'll be modeling Imp clothing soon, then," Galmar rumbled. "Helgrid will just have to deal."

Blythe visibly perked up at this, but shook her head slightly with a smile. "Best if I visit you. They'd see you and wonder where you came from. If we're really unlucky, they'll ask."

"Alrighty people, all aportal who's going to portal. Move it, move it," Ama could be quite humorous when she wanted to be. She started pushing curious gawpers, including Telki, through the portal like some madcap conductor. Blythe rolled her eyes, gave Galmar a kiss filled with promise, and went back to her dreary day job. Erandur managed to dodge Ama's helpful hands, sticking behind long enough to tease Galmar a bit.

"So, are you likely to be needing my clerical services soon?" Erandur could not hide the delight in his voice or the crinkles around his pleased eyes.

Galmar turned an unexpectedly bland face to him. "As a matter of fact, I might. D'ye know if they're familiar with the amulet ritual?"

Erandur was dumbstruck, but rallied quickly. "I'll certainly find out for you."

"You'll have my thanks."

"A commodity I never thought to own."

Meanwhile, through the portal, the group found themselves in a large, mostly empty wood-paneled room with wan light coming through windows with thick, bubbly panes of glass. Sam was holding out the cat to a stooped Imperial man in a large velvet blanket and false cat ears, who looked overjoyed to see it.

Telki looked, shook her head, and looked again. He was still an elderly man wearing a blanket and cat ears. She honestly didn't know what to think, and thought maybe he'd dropped them in one of Rommy's devotee's house.

"Everyone," Sam drawled, eyes sparkling as he took in their varied expressions, "this is our host. He goes by Mittens."

There was a long pause before anyone could speak. "Thank you for hosting us, Mittens," Telki got the impression she would definitely have to use her swaddler persona while here.

"Oh, fellow Khajiit!" he cried, happily walking over and enfolding her in a hug that smelled strongly of mothballs, "This one is so happy to see you!"

"And this one takes similar delight in your presence." Telki never in her life thought she'd be pulling out the dialect, but there it was. If it made the Old One happier, why not? Telki narrowed eyes at a snickering Mercutio, and noticed similar expressions on her sisters. Well, that's fine, they should feel the joy of mothball hugs as well. "May I introduce you to my sisters? This one is Wemie, that one is Nala, and that one is Ama. My sisters, a fellow Khajiit and our host, Mittens."

"This one is so pleased to meet so many pretty ladies!" the old man cried, giving each of them a hug in turn. He paused when he came to Blythe at the end of it, and she raised her eyebrow at him. "This one perhaps has an Alfiq on her head?"

"This one needs to go to work," she said, reaching up and taking her bag from Talon. "Do stop by sometime. We have a real mouse problem."

"This one prefers to buy fish," he said apologetically.

"Ah, well," she shrugged, then headed for the stairs.

Mittens watched her go a moment, then turned back to the rest of them. "Can this one show you to your rooms? This one has plenty of rooms."

"Yes, please, and thank you. Um, Mittens, how do you feel about children?"

"This one enjoys children, but wishes they would stop trying to steal all his Sugar," he replied, heading down the stairs. Apparently, Sam had dropped them all in the attic.

"Oh really? Hmmm, looks like I'll get to do some munchkin wrangling here as well."

Mittens showed them to a spacious third, then second story. The rooms were mostly closed, but there were some bedrooms he'd aired out for them, complete with sitting room. One room was filled with nothing but bean bags, a hooka for Dunmeri tobacco, and shelves with Moon Sugar bowls lining them. No skooma, luckily. He did mention that he occasionally let one of "the girls" bring someone there, but he'd warned them away unless they just wanted a hot meal or place to get dry. Apparently the local Sanguinites were quite fond of the old man.

"You are a darling softy, you know that, Mittens?" Telki hugged the old man's arm. She noticed Erandur stop and take a deep breath by the hooka. Apparently, someone had some fond childhood memories associated with the tobacco. She'd wished he'd said something before now.

The man blushed and cuddled Flavianus, who purred enough for both of them. "If any of you want the Sugar, just let this one know, alright?" he offered shyly. "This one can get more."

"Thank you, we'll remember," Telki promised. She wasn't going to worry or offend the old man by telling him her family had been out of the Moon Sugar habit since before she was born. She got more than her fair share of communing with Deities without its dubious help. Khajiit did not react to Moon Sugar quite the same way the other races did, but it was still somewhat addictive, and problematic to have around anyway due to its proscribed status. It was far simpler for Khajiit living as far into Cyrodiil as her family had been to simply give up that particular tradition.

Talon returned from poking about in the rooms to quietly assure everyone that they were clean and aired as well as any good inn, and recommend they each keep a few changes of clothing over here, as well as some basic supplies. Not just because the portal might go down if Sam was suitably distracted, but because it was a rather long trek from Telki's to the Palace of Kings in the middle of the night, especially after Cyrodiil's noticeably warmer climate.

By that time they had caught up with Blythe, talking to Mercutio by the front entrance. "These are for you," he handed her a few vellum scrolls and a booklet out of his beltpouch. "The scrolls will help with the mouse problem until one of us can do something a little more permanent for you, and the book, just like we discussed."

She looked mildly impressed, "And here I thought you needed a few days. Alright, people, I will see you in a day or two. Or possibly tomorrow. Whenever," she shrugged, flushing slightly. "Thanks for these," she added to Merc.

"You're more than welcome. Once I sat down to it, it turned out to be easier than I expected." Mercutio self consciously rubbed the back of his neck, faint color lighting his cheeks.

"You great mages let me know if you make any more breakthroughs," she said, scratched Mittens behind the "ear," which seemed to delight him. "I'll leave you all to your assimilation runs," she added, and headed out the front door with a whiff of horse dung and the far-off sounds of a crowd.

"Okay, the Bard will bite…what's an assimilation run?" Telki had settled herself comfortably in the nearest chair. Mittens didn't have much, but what he did have, was built for comfort.

"Shopping!" Fey said, eyes bright with an enthusiasm that made her look like Shell. "Telki, they have  _entire shops_  here for expecting mothers! And little baby shoes! And caps! And tiny toys!"

"Hmmm, I could do with a shopping spree," she agreed, watching the elf's face light even further in delight, "I also need to lay hands on a courier."

"That can be arranged," Fey said, coming over and pulling Telki to her feet. "I know exactly where to go, and you're going to need maternity gowns, and there are some things I've always wanted to try with your hair, if you don't mind…"

"Gowns? Just gowns?" Telki was not above whining. "Can I at least have good hose or something under them?" Telki wrinkled her nose. "The last time I wore a 'proper' dress in Cyrodiil, I wound up flashing half the Imperial Legion when I had to go over a wall."

Fey laughed gaily, "I'm sure they'll have something you'll love," she said, trying to shoo the Khajiit out the door, excitement brimming off her.

Telki grabbed her elbow and pulled her close, lowering her voice so only Fey heard her. "I also want to look at what Elsweyr imports can be found in the city. I have idears."

"Will they have those loose dressing gowns there? I have the hardest time keeping Orien in pajamas after his bath—he just curls up in the towel with Bacon."

"If they don't, I'll send to Rihandi for some. Like I said, I have idears."

"I think, as giddy as you're acting, mayhap I need to come along," Wemie said, following closely behind Telki and Fey.

"Fess up, you're just hoping we pass a pastry shop with jellytarts," Telki teased.

"Don't diss the jellytart," Wemie warned, "Or I'll keep any chocolate I find for myself."

"No! Not the chocolate!" Their playful bickering faded as Fey patiently pulled them along into the Imperial City proper.

Tyr rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "I haven't seen her quite that excited since we went to Solitude," he said. "And I was completely uncomfortable the whole time, so I'll just make myself useful here." While that was true, and he could make himself useful, he also knew that Fey wouldn't buy quite so much if he wasn't there to carry it around for her.

"So, Tyr, how would you feel about a pub crawl, then?" Ama slung herself onto his shoulder comfortably from the rafters above, giving him a wide, toothy grin that was certainly up to no good.

He nearly unseated her by laughing, but reached up and steadied her with a hand on her hip, which he retracted with a faint apology, "Sorry, Ama, but I think I'd drink you under the table. Why?"

"I have some people I need to talk to, and they're the sort to be much happier in a pub, and I'd feel much happier with a bit of backup if things go south. Whatcha say?"

"As long as I don't need to haul you home," he shrugged, grinning.

"Pubs?" Sam perked up.

"Sam, honey, I need the people I talk to able to think when we're done. For that matter, I'll need to be able to remember I talked to them after. You want in on that kind of pub crawl?"

He thought a moment, then grimaced, "Nah. However," he sidled over to Merc and slid an arm around his waist, "those bean chairs looked awfully comfortable."

"They did. Are you going to show me how to enjoy them properly?" Merc gave Sam a bashful smile as the color crept up his face. Still not quite used to this level of attention from Sam.

Pulling Merc against him, he gave him a long, lingering kiss, "If you want me to, I'd be happy to show you whatever you wanted," he breathed, nibbling on Merc's lower lip a little.

"I missed you."

Sam pulled back to look at him for a moment, surprised, then smiled, leaning forward to capture his lips again, threading his fingers through his hair.

"Sam, uhm, while I know you have absolutely no problem with onlookers, that blush on Merc's face says he might prefer private time with you to remain, y'know, private," Ama commented, still draped comfortably on Tyr's shoulder. He had a comfy shoulder, and didn't mind being her chair. She was very glad he got added to the family; he was a definite keeper in her books.

"Have fun, kinsman!" Tyr chuckled, waving to Merc as he turned to head out the door. Luckily, it wasn't so warm this early in Cyrodiil that their Windhelm clothing would be remarked upon, though Tyr had already removed his outer layer and privately thought Cyrodiil was just a little humid for his tastes. Like Morthal, really.

"Hey, Tyr, stop by that barrel over there."

"What am I, a cart?" he asked good-naturedly, heading over.

Ama slid down, and started puttering through the barrel with the engraved symbol on the lid. "Ooooh, this could be useful!" Ama shook a small bottle at Tyr. "Neither one of us want to be caught with glamors; a noticed glamor is a failed disguise, I've found. And let's face it, bucko, red hair and purple eyes is a  _very_  noticeable combo. More noticeable than a white striped khajiit. Put us two together, um, no."

Tyr took the bottle, read it, and gave her the same look Orien did when told he couldn't eat sweetrolls before dinner.

"Don't worry, it'll wash out," Ama promised. "Here, I'll go first, okay?" Ama skillfully applied the oil to to arms, face, neck, and shoulders, soon looking like an unremarkable beige striped khajiit. "See? Your turn."

Glad only his linen undershirt was in danger from this, Tyr copied how she'd run the color through her hair, giving her a withering look the entire time. Still, he didn't look quite so striking with brown hair, though there was no disguising his eyes or the sculpted lines of his face.

"I'll buy you dessert," Ama looked him up and down. The broad shoulders, the six feet of fit Nord, yeah, this wasn't going to be easy. "Did you have to be such a hottie? Really?" Ama muttered under her breath, and started digging down to the bottom of the barrel, hoping something would turn up she could use. Soon, all that could be seen of her sticking out of the barrel was tail, butt, and legs.

"Do you need me to hold your feet in case you fall in?" he asked, leaning over to try to see what she was doing.

"Um, at this point, I need you to pull me out. I overbalanced," came the muffled reply. He laughed as he reached in and pulled her out, setting her back on her feet like she was an errant six year old.

"But I found this!" She held up one of her finds for his inspection. It was a typical low brimmed hat common amongst mercenaries in Cyrodiil.

"Um…thanks? I mean, I do tend to burn?" he took it and turned it over in his hands. "Which side is the front?"

"You wear it like this, and this, to complete your look. I shall be your exotic entertainment tonight, so the other women will leave you alone." She jingled her costume at him.

"We can't just be tourists like half the people in this city?" he asked, a bit alarmed. "Wait, what?" Tyr's voice shot up an octave. "My  _what?"_

"You really don't get what a woman magnet you are, do you? That's cute. I bet that's what Fey liked best about you." Ama jingled and jangled as she pulled the dress into place, and then pulled the more dull garments off underneath. She was never so glad for her stretches in her life. Poor Tyr was as red as his hair used to be, and it went all the way down his chest to disappear behind his shirt. "In a word, you're a gorgeous man, and every woman in that pub is going to hit on you, unless you look otherwise engaged. Come to think of it, some of them will probably still try. I'll do my best to run them off you, nicely, so you won't be too embarrassed."

"You know, you might be the one hauling me home. I already feel like I need a drink," he said, voice muffled behind his hand.

"If I must, I'll rent a wheelbarrow," Ama solemnly promised him, then gave her tassels a swish. They jingled merrily. "Do I look exotic strumpet enough?"

"I spent the last thirty years in a prison and the three before that in a Legion camp or on the battlefield!" he moaned, "How am I supposed to know?"

Ama sighed. "Well, at least you'll be proper muscle then, if it comes to a fight. Let's hope it don't come to a fight, huh? Shall we?" Ama lifted her elbow for Tyr to take.

"Please do not go into too much detail when we tell Fey about this," he sighed. "Or, Akatosh forfend, Shell."

"I makes no promises, though since I have a will to live, I will start with your virtue was properly defended."

"Not worried about what they'll think of my virtue," he said glumly, "They'll make fun of my attempt to spy."

"Silly Tyr, you're not spying, I am. You're the backup muscle, and lordy mercy, you've plenty of those," Ama patted his very solid forearm as proof.

"Okay, so don't let backup muscle drink his embarrassment away," he requested.

Ama looked him up and down, laughter overflowing. "You're Dunmer and Nord, can you even get drunk?"

"Of course I can get drunk," he said, surprised.

"Before or after the tavern has to send out for more drinks?"

He lifted a single, newly dyed eyebrow. "We may find out."

"Good, we're here. Welcome to the Dancing Pony," Ama hipchecked the door open. Time to recruit some old friends to the cause.


	24. Discretion is the Better Part of Valor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon and Nala rob the Imperial Mages College  
> And other stuff happens.
> 
>  
> 
> Still life provided by Sir-Douglas-of-Fir and Evil-is-Relative.  
> 

 

Nala sighed, massaging her writing hand. That should be the last of the notes. She'd double checked her data, triple checked her calculations, and this latest diagram included all the new information from this last portal Sam had built. She felt a little guilty, as she flipped through the book. She'd used the last empty pages. Just what had Talon used it for? She thumbed to the first page, and gasped. It was a landscape, Alinor by the look of it, and so detailed and lively it was like looking through a window. Nala ran a light finger over the sketch, reveling in the details.

She flipped the page. Tiny white buds graced the paper, as perfect as if someone had just set it down there, complete with slightly wilted edges of the petals scattering the page around it. She almost expected the heady fragrance of orange blossoms, tracing the delicate petals with light fingers.

The next few pages were true sketches. Little objects, apparently to scale, settled in shaded ink in no particular pattern. Shells, a small crab, a bee, more flowers. Then, as she turned the next page, a burst of color. A woman sat at a desk, not unlike the one she was at now, though rougher in quality. A silver lamp shaped like an elongated, stylized fish held a perfectly round cobalt lamp, burning blue-white light over the rest of the greyscale image. There was a tribal deer skull mounted on the back wall of the sketch, contrasting oddly with the elegance of the lamp. Nala wondered at its significance, since the woman's face was hidden, and the image struck her as infinitely sad. She quickly turned the page.

A list of names filled two pages in small, neat handwriting, four columns on each page of the spread, some common, some only recognizable as such because they were in a list with names. Some had locations next to them, some didn't. Most of them had a date except for the eleven in the very last column, near the bottom, and a few here and there further up. She recognized Pearl and Blossom's names among the ones without dates. She blinked at the list, the dates spread over a period of thirty years, from the end of the Great War. This was a list of Talon's students, and she was saddened to think those dates were most likely the date he lost that student. A teardrop stained the page before she could turn it.

A light knock on the door shattered the silence, causing Nala to jump, dropping the book back on the desk. She wiped her eyes, calling "Come in," while still catching the escaping moisture.

The door opened to a somewhat more flustered than normal Talon, though that was quickly explained when the opening door shattered the muffle enchantments carved into the thick walls of the study, letting the unmistakable sounds of loud lovemaking into her solitude. "I don't want to know how long this has been going on," he muttered, hastily closing the door.

Nala finally wiped the last traces of tears away, and got an eyeful of Talon. Imperial dress suited him, very well. He'd chosen a blue and gold outfit in a style common to mages that didn't fancy wearing robes constantly. It both brought out the gold of his skin and eyes and softened the edges of his lithe frame.

"Wow, you look nice. Imperial styles seem to suit you."

"Rather ironic, in a sense," he commented, putting down the small bundle of purchases he'd picked up. He hadn't been about to choose a room while listening to  _that._

"Well, if I'm honest, you have such a grace and dignity about you, you could probably pull off any style and make it look good. Would that I could." Nala wrinkled her nose at him.

"If you and your sisters continue to flatter me so much, I will develop a terrible ego," he said absently, flipping open the bag and searching around for something.

"Talon! It's not flattery, it's truth, and the day you grow an ego is the day Sam gives up drinking for good." Nala folded her arms across her chest, daring him to naysay her. Her eyes couldn't hold it long, though, and they wandered to the bag of purchases he laid out. "What all did you end up getting anyways? You were gone a while."

"I had a few things I wished to do," he said without looking up. "Most of my current clothing is suited for cold weather, as well. I had almost nothing for warmer climes besides what I left Alinor in." He straightened, handing her a small writer's case as she approached. "I also thought you might find this useful. No more cutting up your sister's napkins, anyway."

"Oooh, Talon! That's so thoughtful, thank you." Nala cradled it to her chest as if it were the most precious thing in the universe, and let her pleasure beam at Talon.

His eyes were a little wide, "Were you crying?" he asked, alarmed.

"I was bad. I used up all your pages, and then, I was nosey." Nala tried to hide behind her new writer's kit. "You're a very talented artist. I owe you a new sketchbook."

"It was deliberately cultivated," he said, not really paying attention to his words as he looked beyond her to what page was open. "Ah," was all he said.

Nala looked behind her, wondering what page was showing. It was the woman with the lamp. "It's a beautiful picture, but so sad, and I'm not sure why."

There was a very long moment of silence. "Probably the lighting," he finally said, eyes not moving from the page.

"May I ask about the lamp, or why there's a deer skull on the wall? I can't place the lamp at all, and the skull looks almost tribal with the feather and beads."

After another pause so long she thought he wasn't going to answer, he told her, "It's Reachmen craft. The lamp was based off an Akaviri design."

"It's beautiful," Nala wondered how to break the growing quiet. "Why is she facing away?"

There was an uncommon helpless quality to his shrug. "I can't recall what she looked like."

Nala's heart ached; what other woman could make a man sad, even when he couldn't remember her face? Where did Talon's curly hair come from? She felt the tears welling, but knew, from the way Talon was reacting, her tears would only make things worse. She surreptitiously scrubbed her face with her sleeve.

"I did not know if you brought a summer-weight magerobe with you, so I grabbed one in your size. You still wished to visit the archives, did you not?" he asked, tearing his eyes from the book and looking down at her.

"Yes, yes I did. We're going tonight?"

"If we leave now, we can simply walk in when most of the students are out at dinner," he said. "Dressed as mages, we shouldn't attract too much notice."

"Talon, my dear, I feel this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

"I am still unsure why you wish me to be there. You did attend this school, did you not? Are you not in good standing?"

Nala held up finger by finger as she went over her points. "You're wiser than me, you're more observant than me, you're people aware, and you're sneakier than me. Plus, we're headed for the sections they don't let students in, ever. "

"Except aids and personal apprentices," he reminded her.

"Remember, I was the smartyrobes student that gave her teachers fits. I was never anyone's aide," Nala humpfted.

"I do not hold their intelligence in very high esteem, in that case," he said scornfully, casting his eyes over what she'd managed to work out in the course of a single day. "Any teacher that sees a talented student as competition isn't worthy of the name."

"And you wonder why you're my favorite," Nala beamed at him. "May I see my new magerobes now?"

"I am aware you normally wear red," he said, pulling out a deep blue robe edged with cream, "but I thought anyone that knew that might look passed you in another color."

"Oh, that's gorgeous," Nala breathed. She took it gently, and held it up to her, twirling to feel the fabric swirl around her. "Whatcha think?"

Handing her the cream cloth belt it came with, he smiled slightly, "I think you still need to keep the hood up if you don't want to draw notice."

"Thank heavens most mages seem allergic to light," Nala quipped. She took the belt, and made for the changing screen in the corner. No way was she sending Talon back out to be serenaded by Sam and Merc's 'private time'. She quickly slipped out of her usuals, and pulled the sumptuous new one on. "Moons above, Talon, is this real silk?"

"Just very fine linen," he assured her. "Silk sometimes interferes with wards; didn't anyone ever warn you off wearing it?"

"It's never really bothered my spellcasting," Nala sheepishly replied. "I wanted to study the whys and wherefores of silk's properties versus spells, but well, I wasn't exactly popular in school, so I couldn't study how it affected others, and since it didn't affect my own I had to abandon it. Still curious about it, though." Nala came out from behind the screen, and twirled one good time. "Will I do?"

Blue was a good color for her, he noted. Her skin seemed to glow and her eyes positively popped. "Until you send a fireball at someone, yes," he said, eyes gleaming softly.

Nala sniffed disdainfully, "I only fireball people who absolutely deserve it."

"I've been to these places before," he informed her, walking over and gently tucking her hair up and into her hood before drawing it up, "A great deal of them deserve it."

Nala felt her knees go decidedly wobbly while he was fixing her hood for her, and firmly told said knees to buck up. The soft, incidental caress across her neck and jaw as he pushed her hair back did nothing for the stability of her voice either. "Well, I guess you'll just have to keep me properly distracted, then."

"What a task," he sighed.

Nala cocked her head quizzically at him. That sigh sounded a wee bit too sincere. "You do realize I managed four years amongst them without setting a one of them on fire? I was teasing. An attempt to distract myself from the fact we're about to do something very illegal, possibly dangerous, and I'm scared silly."

"I'll keep you out of prison," he assured her with complete confidence.

Nala searched his face carefully. There was no cockiness to be found, just plain, simple assurance. "You are quite possibly the one person in existence that could say that and I'd believe it wholeheartedly."

He considered that, "Well, I suppose I can at least be relieved you wouldn't ask Shell to do this."

"She reminds me too much of Ama. Remember, I grew up with that one." Nala straightened her robes unnecessarily. "Are we ready?"

"Either we wait for someone to return to inform them where we are going, or we run for the exit wishing for deafness. The choice is yours," he told her.

"I'll just leave a message for them. I think that window opens onto the roof, so we don't have to brave the odes to lovemaking going on in the hall," Nala wrinkled her nose. She did not want to know that much about her sister's spouses, ever.

"If you do not mind leaving from the second story, I would very much like to never hear that again," he said, voice a little more strained than usual.

"Right," Nala concentrated on her palm, where a little glowing ball appeared. She whispered into it, and then blew it off her palm, where it wafted like milkweed through the floorboards. "Shall we?"

Walking to the window that didn't have a desk in front of it, Talon opened it and looked out, examining the walls, then looking up. "This may be awkward for you," he warned.

Nala raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't know whether to be insulted, or gush because you care. Firstly, I'm Khajiit, secondly, I was a hellion long before I was a mage."

"Aside from not knowing about your past as a scamp," he started, turning to give her a wry look, "I also have no working knowledge of your city climbing. If you'd like to demonstrate, I'd be happy to watch. If you're more comfortable in trees, I'll assist you."

"Remind me to tell you about the great sleepover sneakout sometime. You can watch Wemie turn twenty shades of red." Nala carefully maneuvered herself over the sill, and tested the roof before trusting her weight to it. "Are we going down over there, or did you have another dismount in mind?"

"I'm following you," he informed her, curious to see which route she'd chose.

"Ah. Another one of those assessment things, huh?" Nala smirked. She looked around the roof, the ornamental stonework looked crumbly, the gutters, she wouldn't trust a mosquito's weight on a gutter after the last fiasco, which left an overgrown ornamental tree. It was alive, not crumbly, and as old as it was, the branches were thick enough to take her weight easily. She swung onto a branch, and slid down the smooth bark to the fork.

Amused, he watched her make her way down the tree as delicately as she did everything. "Nala," he began, crouching on the roof to look down at her.

"Hmmm?" She beamed back up at him, eyes scrunched in pleasure and a smile wide across her face. She was already halfway to the ground.

He took in her pleased expression and shook his head, "Nevermind," he said. He wouldn't ruin her good mood by teasing her that she'd insisted she could navigate a roof then picked a tree to get down. It still worked, it was simply ironic.

When they were coming upon more populated streets he took her arm before they got separated in the crowd, weaving them through with the ease of a native. He wasn't sure if Nala was cuddling the arm she held for appearances, or because she disliked the crowds as much as he secretly did. He had to bodily pull her away from a pickpocket at one point. He really disliked cities, and was grateful for the hood shading his eyes from the sun overhead, and the gleam off gilded rooftops, windows, and armor.

"Thank you for that."

He gave her a brief, tight smile, slipping down a side road and taking a more direct, though slightly less savory, route. As they went he changed his walk, his posture, and the way his arm was held by her or around her, depending on the neighborhood. Through it all, he was strongly reminded why he preferred to stick to rooftops while here. People were notoriously unpredictable, and while he was usually left alone, Nala looked just a little too dainty and easy a mark when not sporting a fireball in each hand.

Nala wasn't afraid to admit it to herself that she was enjoying the walk immensely. Where Galmar and Delvin's protective behavior annoyed her, Talon pulling the same 'hands off' schtick nearly had her in transports. It took all her will to throttle the happy squee when the arm went around her completely. She just happily tucked herself under his arm, and wrapped both arms tightly about his middle. It was a nice, well toned middle, and in terrible need of hugging. There was absolutely nothing she could do about the grin curled permanently on her face. It ended all too soon, however, as the University came into view, the mage robes quickly outnumbering the normal civilian outfits in the street around them, and he released her.

The Imperial University had been started by the Synod after the original Arcane University was split following the Oblivion Crisis, when distrust of magic was on the rise. The old circle and magetower of the original University had been closed for repairs and never reopened to anyone but high level mages. Unfortunately for Imperial mage students, the two main schools in the Empire were as much (or more) political institutions than places of learning. There was always the chance that a student was actually a spy, after all, and would apprentice themselves to the great mages teaching them, steal all their secrets, and run back to the group that held their true allegiance.

Honestly, no wonder they had lost the war.

The Imperial University belonged to the Synod, which was at least willing to teach basic magic to paying students in a type of boarding school atmosphere. Really good mage teachers tended to take individual pupils, but it was difficult for some to really accept that, and in some ways there was no better place to learn to work with a group of other mages. People of all ages and races congregated in the massive University building, once a palace in all but name to an Elder Council member. The Archives were as renowned as the Arcanium, and a student was considered "graduated" to a higher level of magery when new parts of the library were opened to them. There was no ceremony for this; the spells simply reacted to skill and magicka levels.

That last was why Talon wasn't worried about being able to get into where they needed to go. He'd been teaching magic longer than some of these professors had been alive. All they really needed to worry about was someone recognizing they were where they should not be.

Sliding them to the side of the thoroughfare, they melded with the smaller stream of people moving into the building, carefully avoiding those rushing out to get to dinner at one of the taverns, their homes, or—more rarely—an after-class job. More and more, magic was becoming an upper-class activity, with the lower classes unable to afford institutions or apprentice fees. If it continued, Talon greatly expected a schism in the types of magic cast within the heart of the Empire; those classically trained in a school or by a tutor, and those taught by herbwomen, priests, and hedgemages. There were some lower-class people here, mostly those who were sponsored, had won a scholarship, or were laboriously working their way through the classes. And of course, there were battlemages, who accepted anyone able to cast a spell into their lower ranks, from which only merit and skill would advance one further. That left being a battlemage a risky proposition for those looking to advance their family's social standing by having a third or fourth—and so in these family rankings, superfluous—child becoming a great mage.

No one even looked at them twice as they walked through the doors and into the University itself. He turned into a less occupied hallway, still walking as if he had a task he was set on.

"I have no idea where anything is," he said pleasantly, keeping his expression bland and nodding to a student, who nodded back absently and kept walking.

"Luckily, this was my second home away from home," Nala quipped, "And since it doesn't look like they've reorganized while I was away, the sections we want are this way." She quickly gained her bearings and tugged happily on his arm, leading him down a hallway that looked like it hadn't seen traffic since Tiber Septim's time. A single elderly mage was pruning a wilting plant by the window, seeming completely engrossed in this task until they grew closer, and he glanced up, then back to his work before his gaze bounced back to them again.

"Nala?"

"Professor Nevio?" Nala's eyes widened in pleasure. Yes, most of her professors were pills she wouldn't spit on if their guts were on fire, but there were the rare few that rated the familial treatment. Professor Nevio was one of those treasures.

Brown eyes were barely visible under the heavy brush of his grey eyebrows, but he managed to lift them high enough in astonishment for them to twinkle at her. "Dear girl, I thought you'd left! Did you bring me back any grapefruit? You were going to Colovia, right? No, wait…Skingrad?"

Nala laughed in pleasure. "Sorry, not a lot of grapefruit to be had in Skyrim. That's where I finally wound up. Caught back up with all my sisters there."

"Oh, dear. Is Ama getting you into trouble?" he asked worriedly.

"Don't worry, it's not a patch on the hijinks Telki's been up to, but we're handling it."

"Ah, I see," he said, obviously not seeing. "And who's your friend? Have you finally put down a book long enough to make some companions?" His voice was gently teasing, but it was still plain he'd worried.

"Umm," Nala turned twenty shades of red. Really, how should she introduce Talon? Would giving his name cause issues? She kinda wished they'd taken longer to actually come up with a cover story. "Bit of a teacher, bit of a friend. He's a bit of everything, really."

"Oh! Oh, really?" he asked, bushy eyebrows flying right back up as he put his own spin on "everything."

"He's taught me things with wards I didn't know were possible," Nala shared. She nudged Talon. "Feel free to speak up for yourself anytime here."

"I'm Talon," he said simply, extending a hand.

"Not a usual name for an Altmer," Nevio noted.

"My father was very interested in falconry," he said, adopting a long-suffering expression. "He did that to all of us."

Nevio laughed. "Were you planning to attend the University, then?" he asked curiously. "I didn't think anything would convince Nala to come back here!"

"I simply wished to see the place for myself," he averred. "I was privately tutored."

"Ah, yes. Most Altmer are," Nevio nodded, reaching up a swollen hand to brush steel grey strands of hair off his face. "How did you two meet?"

"I'm a friend of her sister," Talon informed him.

"I may have mentioned she collects people?" Nala hadn't released Talon's hand, and it practically quivered with nerves in his. Nevio kept glancing at their clasped hands, little smile making more wrinkles on his face.

"You mentioned something about baby rabbits and field mice, and once that she tried to keep a bowl of tadpoles, but you didn't mention people," he said.

"Well, she got out on her own and graduated to people collecting, apparently."

More wrinkles revealed themselves on the elderly Imperial's face as he grinned broadly. "After your stories, young Nala, I find I am not a bit surprised. So she 'collected' you, Master Talon?"

"She had her children referring to me as 'uncle' before I even met them," he revealed ruefully, and Nevio heaved a deep, rumbling laugh that ended on a wheeze.

"So, Professor Nevio, since I'm in town for a bit, shall we have our Turdas Tea parties?"

Undisguised pleasure shone through his grin, "Why, Nala, you have this lovely young man here, and you'd still want to spend an hour with my old bones?"

"Of course," Nala looked truly affronted, "just because I've added Talon doesn't mean I'll abandon you. I gotta have  _somebody_  to talk about him with."

Talon gave her an odd look while Nevio laughed again. "Good, good! I hope to see you at the usual time and place then? I'm too old to have changed my habits, you'll still know right where to find me."

"If that means you still serve those scrumptious tea cakes, I might even persuade Talon to join us."

"I'll order some just for you," he said, taking her hand and patting it lightly. "They've raised their prices a bit, but it's worth it if I get to listen to what my old pupil is getting up to. And I look forward to hearing just what Master Talon can do with wards that you haven't seen before." He gave Talon an equally warm grin as he gave Nala, his eyes still hidden beneath his bushy eyebrows. "Anything that gets her approval is bound to be impressive."

"She is rather scornful of the mundane," Talon replied with a small shrug. Nala turned her head and gaped at Talon, not sure what to reply. Nevio's laughter rolled over them, thick and hearty, only to leave the poor man wheezing. Nala decided now was as good a time as any to end this conversation, before Talon found new ways to embarrass her.

"It was good seeing you, and I'm looking forward to Turdas." Nala squeezed his hand before watching him leave, chuckling to himself. She decided two could play that game, though, and murmured just for Talon's ears. "So what does that say about you, that you continually leave me amazed?"

"I'm old and have seen much?" he replied without missing a beat.

Nala tilted her head to Nevio's still chuckling silhouette. "That is an old man. You are not, far from it. That," Nala waved at Talon's rear, "is not the backside of an old man, but a posterboy for Heart's Day."

He stared at her for a moment, taken aback, his cheeks a bit darker than usual, but it could simply be the lighting in the hallway. "We should move on," he finally managed. While he had gotten used to her propensity to flirt, he hadn't expected blatant assessment.

"This way." Nala tugged him down the corridor, towards where she hoped answers lay to her permaportal predicament.

"I had gotten the impression that your professors weren't overfond of you," he said, longer legs easily keeping up with her pace. "Why were you not his apprentice?"

"Frost magic and History of Philosophy, neither of my fields. Else, he might not be as fond of me as he is," Nala gave the old professor's retreating back a wistful smile.

A little line of perplexity appeared between his eyebrows. "I do not understand why these people find you so tedious to work with," he admitted. "You are exuberant, and do not suffer fools well, but it is not as if that stops you from the task at hand." He glanced down at her, perplexity growing in response to her wide-eyed, slightly stunned gaze, "I did not intend for that to be a Nirn-shattering proclamation."

Nala heaved a deep breath, trying to get her watercan eyes and trembling chin under control. "Let's say your opinion is decidedly in the minority. Many professors are used to students who follow along and make them feel smart and wonderful. They have no idea what to do with one that will challenge them, or Divines forfend, prove them wrong. Those students get shuffled off as quickly as possible."

"Dear Anu and Sithis; no wonder they got decimated," he muttered lowly, glancing around.

Nala snorted. "And the Thalmor didn't? Remember, they took their city back, after the Thalmor had overrun it, leaving not a single Dominion elf in the city alive. Tell me, who repopulates more quickly, elves? Or men?"

"I believe this is returning to the old question of quantity and quality," he said. "If the humans are stifling all their magical potential and creativity to stoke their own egos, what's left?"

Nala eyed Talon while she thought on her answer and answered him softly. "I wasn't culled. I was able to look elsewhere and educate myself. I managed to surprise you a time or two."

He twitched at the term involuntarily, not expecting it. "You shouldn't have needed to teach yourself," he finally said.

"Could they be better? Yes. Should the professors be more interested in furthering their students than their egos? Yes. But griping at me is not going to change the system." Nala, without relinquishing her hold on Talon's arm safely stowed in the crook of her elbow, rubbed her hands in glee. "We put bugs in the ears of the Powers that Will Be."

He sighed slightly, "I have a feeling I shall get rather annoying rather quickly," he confessed. "This…bothers me." The word wasn't quite strong enough for what he felt, but it was polite. He was angry, and deeply, deeply worried. The Thalmor weren't going away, and if half the mages in the Empire were being taught through this method, they would find themselves in dire straights.

"Oh, make no mistake, it bothered me, too. Changing this system is one of the many reasons we need to quickly get a new Emperor enthroned." Nala saw the dim stacks ahead of them. "Here's the library. I think, if I remember, the Ayelid books are in the far corner, and towards the middle of the stacks are the books on ancient relics and sites of power. Though, honestly, now that I think about it, what we really need is the Rare Book room. That's this way." Nala was again pulling Talon down the room towards a door with a very visible and very powerful ward on it.

He halted right in front of it. He'd felt the wards between sections testing them, their knowledge and magicka levels, and let them pass. If this school was as concerned with secrets as he'd been led to believe, this ward could be much different. Closing his eyes a moment, he listened hard, but the only sounds he could hear were far off. As far as he knew, they were the only ones in this section of the library. "Do you recall when you showed me the magical structure of the atronach?" he asked lowly. "Could you do that here?"

"Alright," Nala let herself shift, studied the ward, then drew it in light colors for Talon to read, her slender fingers appearing almost to dance as they shaped the ribbons of light.

His eyes flickered over the weavings of the spell. It was reserved for masters of a particular level, and a few keyed individuals, but nothing like as strict as he'd worried. There really must be no one of a particular level who was not in a teaching position. How foolish of them, but it worked to their advantage. Shaking his head at the folly of these mages, he simply walked through, taking Nala with him. It tested them and let them through without even a ripple of power.

"Talon, why do you look like someone just gave you rancid milk?"

"Remind me to return here at some point and give these mages a lesson in paranoia," he said darkly. "Literally anyone of a particular level can walk in here. They didn't even key it to the professors. It would have taken minutes."

"Wow," Nala said. "Guess it's a good thing the Thalmor assumed differently, or felt their magical storehouse beneath notice."

"There is no way to tell if they did," he said. "I've met at least one that could have simply walked in, read everything here, and copied it at home at his leisure. That is assuming the mages haven't simply replaced volumes taken during the siege." Kneeling to examine the lock, he added, "Well, at least they used a complicated lock." Not so complicated he couldn't pick it in under a minute, though. They'd only warded it against the Open spell, not physical lockpicks.

Nala looked troubled. "You mean, we might be wasting our time?"

"We won't know until we look," he sighed, trying to rein in his affront. What was wrong with these people? Shaking the thought away, he gave her an attempt at a smile, "But you were able to reconnect with an old friend. That is something."

Nala gave him a genuine smile. "Yeah, Professor Nevio's one of the good ones."

Footsteps coming their way made him glance out, then quickly open the door to the Rare Book room and usher her in, following swiftly and closing the door behind them. It was dark as pitch in there, and he glanced around as she kindled a magelight. It wasn't very large—six of his paces at most between the shelves, and only half that across. "Did you have anything particular in mind?" he asked, eyes skimming the shelves.

"Varla and Welkynd stones, and those Alyeid portals. I need more information on them. I'm hoping something in here has more details." Nala tapped her chin in thought.

Talon was already pulling down a book from the top shelf and leafing through it. His eyebrows raised slightly: Books on Alyeids were very different from the human perspective. Quite a bit less wailing on lost knowledge and quite a bit more focus on the undisputed torture and mistreatment of their human slaves with their magic. He'd noticed the Altmer books tended to gloss over that part.

Nala pulled the nearest book to her, her eyebrows rising. "Now I did not expect to see this here. It's a collection of Khajiit lore." She leafed through it, snorting lightly. "Okay, some of it's actual lore, some of it's tail pulling." She set it down and looked for a more likely candidate to mention what she needed.

They companionably searched, commenting back and forth about what they found. Some of it interesting, some of it hilarious, some of it infuriating. Many of the books weren't even magic, just older, less common volumes. Talon found a book on the Champion of Cyrodiil that almost made him laugh, and quietly pocketed it to show Telki. He wasn't sure how much becoming Sheogorath had changed Rommy, but he was fairly certain the man had never been the dour, studious sort the author claimed.

"Nala," he said quietly, opening a book to find it hollow. The inside was carefully carved around a small blue stone, faintly glowing and bordered with iron.

Nala looked up. "Oh? What'd you find?"

He lifted the stone gently and handed it to her, "Someone hid a varla stone in here."

"Seriously? Holy Hepcats." Nala took the stone gently, studying, then Studying it with Sight." Her eyes widened almost out of their sockets. "Talon, I have no idea how to describe this. Come looksee with me."

He leaned over her shoulder, examining the stone anew. "They all tend to glow with Sight, Nala. What exactly am I looking for?"

"Um, Talon, you know what I meant. I don't think I can lightdraw this. You'll actually have to, um. You know." Nala looked up at his utterly still expression. "Yeah, nevermind, I guess I'll be learning the words, somehow." She sighed, wrapped the stone in a square of silk she took to keeping with her, and nestled it safely in a pouch.

"Is that what you were looking for?" he asked.

"This will allow me to make my own studies and extrapolate from there. I was hoping to find where someone had laid the groundwork already," Nala sighed.

He paused, eyes flickering toward the door as footsteps approached. "Put out the light," he breathed, hoping they'd move on.

Nala quickly doused her light, listening for all she was worth. Had someone seen? Had someone heard them? What if they came in? The room was so small, they were bound to bump into them, no matter what cloaking spell or stealth illusion was employed.

The footsteps paused outside. There was some fumbling and muttering, peevish sounds that showed the person would much rather be elsewhere. A slight thump as they placed something on the ground, the scrape of a key in the lock. They were coming in, and Talon and Nala had absolutely nowhere to hide.

"Pardon me, Nala," Talon whispered quickly, turning and hefting her up against the stacks, one hand threading through her hair as he pressed her against the shelves, lips finding hers just as the door opened and light fell on them both.

" _Mmmpft!"_ Nala saw stars. He smelled wonderful, he felt wonderful, and like hell if she wasn't going to enjoy every moment of this. She opened her mouth to his kiss, and Divines help her, he  _tasted_  wonderful. Her legs tightened around his lean lovely waist, and her arms crept up to play in the curls that had been teasing her since she first saw them. They were soft and springy under her hands, slightly tickling her fingers. She loved it. She especially loved being crushed to that finely toned chest. He was lean, true, but mothercat help her, he was broad, and he was fit. Nala could quite happily stay squished to his chest for the rest of her life.

Startled, Talon automatically deepened the kiss, holding her a little tighter and forgetting for a moment where they were. This was a little too enjoyable to be a ruse, something whispered in the back of his mind. Her heart was hammering against his chest, and she made a small, needy sound that had the hand supporting her sliding up her thigh a moment, lifting her robes.

That was apparently all the poor mage could take. Stuttering an apology, the intruder slammed the door behind them and fled in embarrassment. Talon felt slightly chagrined he had momentarily forgotten their presence. His own heart pounded as he brushed her lips lightly one last time, drawing away in the darkness before he did something he couldn't take back. Thoughts whirling, he whispered, "Are you alright?"

"Hmm? Why'd you stop?" Nala had not quite come back from Talon, the wonderland of headiness.

Numerous responses came to mind, but somehow none of them seemed fitting. So many conflicting emotions were going through him that he could only stare dumbly at the slight blue glow of her eyes in the darkness. His heart still thudded at twice its usual rate, and his stomach felt tight, both sick and giddy as various implications flew through his head.

When had he developed feelings for her?

"We should go," he said, licking his lips nervously and letting her slowly slide down. "He might not tell anyone he saw us, or he may go find someone in authority to dispose of us. We cannot linger here any longer."

"You're right. You're absolutely right." Nala's heart still yammered in her chest like a sugared up hummingbird; every nerve in her body humming like its wings. How was she supposed to think like this?

Talon paused a moment at the door, then cracked it and listened again. Convinced no one was near enough to spot them, he opened it completely and slipped out, holding it open for her and keeping a tight rein on his expression. This was unexpected, and they didn't have time to deal with it at the moment, but his mind was providing a plethora of memories that proved he should have seen, should have known.

Nala knew she should be concerned with stealth, with watching for wary eyes, but her entire mind was taken up with a single, repeating phrase: "Now what?" Talon had kissed her. She'd kissed him back, and if she wasn't mistaken, Talon enjoyed it more than a little bit. There had been tangible, irrefutable proof that he'd definitely been affected, and they'd been melded so close that it was impossible for her not to notice. Her cheeks reddened just thinking about it.

The long hallway passed in painful silence. Nala was more than happy to see the regular stacks ahead of her. Finally something to pull her out of the whirling feelings and thoughts she still couldn't make sense of.

"Someone is ahead," he whispered, the sound barely audible past his lips but knowing her sensitive ears would pick it up. "At the table on the right." Neither of them looked casual anymore, and he paused, reaching passed her and grabbing a book at random off the shelf above her head. The slight widening of her eyes and the hitch in her breathing did more to him than he'd like to admit. Even half a century ago he would have simply steered her back into the stacks and picked up where they left off, but they needed to get out of there, and he had a lot of thinking to do before he could indulge himself in any such way. This was a friend, and he wouldn't do anything to hurt her. Right now, there were many, many ways this could end badly.

He opened the book and placed it in her hands, pulling her hood up over her face from where it had fallen back. He hadn't meant to leave her looking so disheveled. Deftly tucking her clothing back into place, he glanced down at what he'd managed to snag: a book on wards. Well, it seemed Nala had just become a Restoration student.

Nala's fractured attention finally caught the title of the book, and a nervous giggle escaped. "They still stock this drivel?"

He pulled it back out of her hands, skimmed a few pages, muttered uncharitable things in Aldmeris, and put it back on the shelf, this time reading titles before handing her a book on Restoration theory. If she actually read it as they walked, it could help her interpret her Sight.

Nala skimmed through, a frown growing on her face. "Talon, are these colors right?"

Despite everything, a deep chuckle rumbled out of him at that. Always questioning. "They're different for everyone," he explained, reaching up and pulling his hood forward a little more securely. Nala had managed to tug his hair loose, and he hadn't' the time to unwind and fix it.

Nala released a deep breath. "Oh good. I was beginning to wonder. I mean, most of these are close, but, really, does Shock look lavender to you? For me, it's a rich royal purple, and Healing always looks gold."

"I See Shock as white and Healing as yellow," he shrugged. "It all looks very faded to me." Gently placing a hand in the small of her back, he pressed her forward. There was no reason they couldn't talk about this and move—in fact, it was beneficial. They were leaving, and people wouldn't question two mages obviously in the middle of a debate. Such things tended to end up with Silence spells or fireballs.

"The colors look faded to you? Fire runes tend to look yellow to me, the color deepening with the strength of the spell. I once saw a fire spell so dark, it looked almost brown."

"Really?" he asked, interest caught. "I had thought from time to time that the strength of the colors might deepen with enhanced Sight, but this is the first anyone has been able to confirm that."

"How hasn't it been confirmed until now? Or, maybe, when Sight was more common, it was taken for granted? Yet another lost art?" Nala's mouth twisted wryly.

"Oh, probably," he said with just a hint of exasperation. "Look at basic Healing now; most set it as a weak, broad spell, so that half the strength of it is lost correcting blemishes or scratches as well as wounds. People seldom bother to direct it anymore, even though it would make it far more potent. I don't even think it occurs to most that it can be used that way."

"Oooh, especially for spellcasters without a lot to work with in the first place. I bet it could be concentrated just like the bolt. Huh, never thought about branching into Restoration, but with an idea like that to play with, I might just." Nala canted her eyes saucily at Talon. "Care to take on a resto apprentice?"

"I'm always willing to share my knowledge, Nala, you should know that by now," he said, almost absently, as he thought. "Sura might be a resource for this type of project. Her magicka stores are very low—I was rather surprised to see her in the position she was within her team. It could be that she knows how to work her magic very efficiently at a small scale, to give it just as much impact as a more powerful spell."

"Huh, well, we can ask when we get back."

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Didn't think you'd have the gall to show your face here again." An Imperial mage stood stiffly just off to the side, a stack of books clutched to her chest as if to ward Nala away.

"Oh, Amaryllis, how nice to see you." Sarcasm laced Nala's words so heavily, they practically dripped on the floor. "And why, pray tell, would I be afraid to show my face? Your uncle had to retire, though for some odd reason, his disproved book was still on the shelves."

Amaryllis laughter was sharp and brittle. "Really? I heard you tried a spell that was beyond you and left in disgrace. I have no idea why you'd try to peddle that lie to me, of all people!"

Standing so quietly he faded into the background, Talon's eyes flickered from Nala to the tense Imperial. Her clothing was good quality but not sumptuous, and had an embroidered family crest on the shoulder. Not noble, but wealthy, and brought up on the clannish familial pride that pervaded the Imperial middle and upper classes. Her dark hair was braided in a style favored by busy noble women, and her posture was bristling with anger and annoyance at seeing Nala.

The Khajiit's answering body language gave him little hope of them leaving without some kind of altercation.

Nala's mouth worked for a moment. "I understand that you feel loyal to your uncle, even if he's the biggest waste of space in Cyrodiil, but never, have I ever been caught in a lie, and I don't demonstrate a spell until I've practiced it to perfection. You know that. You've seen that. So when your uncle came to you with that load of horse manure, I can't understand how in Oblivion someone supposedly as smart as you could believe it. In fact, here, have a little demonstration." Nala flicked her fingers once, and a small shield popped into existence around Amaryllis, "Now tell me who lied."

Amaryllis immediately started beating on the shield, but strangely enough, what little sound emerged was muted. Her eyes widened, and she started screaming at Nala through the shield.

Nala hooked elbows with Talon and pulled. "That'll hold her all of ten minutes, shall we go?"

"We cannot leave her here," he said with a hint of disapproval. "She will most certainly report this. If you ever want to return here without incident, you should release her. You've made your point."

"What's she going to do, go tell her uncle I cast a spell he said was impossible? No, if they make an issue of it, they'll either have to admit lying then, or lying now. Appearances are very important to Amaryllis."

He shook his head. "There is a way to make the second stage safe for imprisoning others, but until then the inside absorbs and deflects magicka the same way the outside does. If she starts throwing magicka at it, it will absorb and power the spell. Works a bit like Equilibrium if they stay at it."

"Oh." Nala sounded sheepish, turning hastily and breaking the ward, spilling Amaryllis onto the ground and giving her the energy to stand up and glare at her rival.

"'Oh?' That's all you have to say for yourself? 'Oh?'" Amaryllis scraped her eyes up and down Nala with a scalding censure. "Reckless and thoughtless as always. Who cares about the consequences? You must show everyone that you're oh so much smarter and it can be done, whether or not it  _should_ be done, or is  _safe_ to be done. Well, I hope your little demonstration made you happy. You could have killed me!"

"There is also," he interjected before that could go further, "a distinct difference between criticism and baiting."

Amaryllis turned to face Talon, cheeks white with rage. "Baiting? What do you call what she has done? Do you think my uncle is the first she's ruined or chased away? No, he was just one of several." She turned to practically spit the words at Nala, "I heard about the one you drove to a mind healing temple in High Rock."

"Well, that one, at least, was more about getting caught with his hand up his student aide's robes than me…" Nala's face flushed. "And no, I was never a student aide."

"No, that wouldn't suit your ice queen act. Or—" Amaryllis faced flushed, and she stamped her feet in frustration.

"Are you quite finished?" Talon asked mildly, arching an eyebrow as he finally walked over.

With frustrated tears standing in her eyes and her fists tight against her sides, she jerkily nodded.

Talon handed her a handkerchief as he released the Silence spell. "That was exactly what I was referring to when I said baiting," he informed her. "Teaching is not simply pounding concepts into a student's mind, it is a discourse. The teacher learns as much from the students as the reverse. It benefits you not to discount those who question convention, and lessens you to shun them. Try to remember that in the future. More things have been forgotten in magic than we will ever know, and we may never fully understand its nature."

Amaryllis gave him a quizzical look. "You sounded very much like Professor Aldwenna just now. Have you taken this loose cannon on as a student, then?"

"I have taken many loose cannons on as students," he informed her with a hint of amusement. "I have neither retired nor been to the mind healers."

She drew herself up and let out a heavy sigh, handing back his unused handkerchief. "You sound like an excellent teacher. Don't let this one break your streak."

"I find enthusiasm invigorating," he revealed. "Questions do not bother me."

Nala sniffed disdainfully and brushed her robes down. "As lovely as it wasn't to see you again, we really must be off. Shall we?" Nala presented her arm for Talon to take.

"Lovely meeting you," he said politely to Amaryllis, tucking Nala's hand through his elbow and taking slightly longer strides than earlier. It didn't look like he was hurrying, just that he'd forgotten he was taller.

"Either pick me up, or slow down. I'm having to skip to keep up." Nala panted, bobbing like a hare bounding through high grass.

"Good. That means she will have to run to catch up," he replied, then took pity on her and turned them down another hall with a stream of people in it and slowed to crowd pace. "I did not realize you'd made yourself so memorable in an institution this size."

Nala gave him a disbelieving look. "I told you I got kicked out of five colleges, and it never occurred to you I'd leave a lasting impression?"

"You did not mention being expelled, only that you did not find what you were looking for. The impression was that you left voluntarily," he slanted her a look.

"While I left on my own power, they made it abundantly clear I was unwelcome, and therefore it felt like getting kicked out," Nala groused. "I never gave them enough grounds to actually expel me."

Taking a moment to think on that, he said only, "The dinner hour will be ending soon. We should get back."

"I'm moving as quickly as short legs can. I remind you, if that's not enough, you're free to pick me up and run," she grumbled.

"Perhaps later," he said, actually meaning it. If he had to wind through the busy streets one more time, he might borrow a page from Blossom's book and stab someone. He would much rather avoid any more interactions and go across the rooftops. There were few things he detested more than being crowded. The scathing voice in the back of his mind adding "like cattle" certainly wasn't helping matters.

Thankfully, they made it through the streets without too much incident. He did end up breaking the fingers of a pickpocket, but after that, they were mostly left alone. Tension knotted his shoulders until they were on the relatively clear streets near where Mittens made his home. The criminal element around there wasn't quite at the point of attacking in broad daylight, but when he saw a few eyeing them, sizing them up, he did actually pick Nala up—completely without warning and eliciting a startled squeak from her—and simply took to the roofs. Taking him for a housethief, they ignored them after that.

The roof route was much quicker, and Nala was thankfully light. He hopped down onto the jutting windowalk they had climbed out on and placed her on her feet on the slope. "I hope I didn't startle you," he said apologetically.

"Are you kidding?" Nala whispered fiercely. "That was fun! Can we do that again?"

His eyes warmed with a smile. There was a time, before moving into Faloniril's Spire, that he would roofrun for hours, simply out of sheer enjoyment. He nodded, then extended his hand toward the window. He caught himself admiring the way her eyes were shining, the color staining her cheeks. He'd made other such observations, he realized, going back in his memory and cataloguing them. The way she moved, the touch of her fingers when making a spell, the way light shone on her hair as she practiced with fire.

They had been there for a while, these thoughts, growing more frequent as her intellect and sheer thirst for knowledge drew him to her. He should have seen. The other Young Ones had noticed long before he had, he realized.

Thinking about this now was doing him no good, however. He needed quiet and time to work through his thoughts, decide what, if anything, to do about them. Judging from her response to his kiss, she wouldn't let him mull on it for very long. In fact, if he didn't find a different direction for her thoughts, she might very well wish to continue once they were inside. He hadn't missed the subtle changes in her posture, her carriage, that suggested that moment was never far from her thoughts.

"Is that varla stone going to be sufficient for your research for now?" he asked, opening the shutters for her.

Nala knew a sidestep when she heard one, and took a moment to try to get a grip on her racing thoughts and rolling emotions. They had been on the edge of a moment, his eyes had been smiling at her, and she watched him tuck all those happy thoughts away to distract her with research. She kept the deep heartfelt sigh completely mental. No need to give him further signs to read.

"I honestly don't know. I'm sure it's at least enough to get started, and give me the clue to the next bit I'd need to make permagates."

"Good," he said, feeling as if that were inadequate, but not really knowing what to say. He cursed himself as he got the window open and slipped inside, holding a hand out to help her. If this were a mission, if he were playing a part, he would know exactly what to say. He could seduce her or break her heart as easily as the words themselves passed his lips. This wasn't a mission, though, he was being himself, and found himself oddly at loose ends.

Nala reached a hesitant finger up to smooth a nearly nonexistent crease from between his brows. "Whatever it is, I'd like to help if I can. You hide your worries so well. If I didn't still have Sight up, I'd have missed it."

Lightly taking her hand from his face, he used it to assist her the rest of the way through the window. "There is a lot on my mind," he confessed. "My own worries are but a small part of it."

"I've heard tell Dagi-Rahts have excellent ears for listening. Sometimes, it's the smallest parts that cause the worst problems," Nala squeezed his hand gently.

"You are a very caring person, Nala," he said, releasing her hand. "Impetuous sometimes, but caring." He reached up to lower the hood of his robes and cursed inwardly when his hair finished slipping out of it's usual tight club, tumbling around his face and shoulders. He gathered it back up immediately, glancing around for the tie.

Nala could not repress her delight at the mass of white-blond, curling waves. "Why would you hide that? Has Telki seen it? No, obviously, else she would demand you wear it down all the time. Seriously, why hide it?" The last question was asked with a semblance of sense. She'd made tentative moves to touch it, but drew her hands back when he flinched slightly.

A bit unnerved by her reaction, he hesitantly answered, "I inherited it from my human mother. True-bred Altmer seldom have curls, and it was easier to move among them when they were minimized."

"Well, you're not there now, so again, why hide it? Honestly, no, maybe you should, because that glory on your godly body will probably draw more attention than you want to handle," Nala bit her lip. "I can show you a braid to help tame it."

He stared at her, it taking a few seconds to realize why his face felt uncommonly warm. There she went flattering him again. No, he realized, flirting. She always flirted with him, and he'd assumed, after watching her and her sisters those first few days, that it was simply a personality trait, such as Telki instantly wanting to mother whoever she met. Ama still continued flirting. Nala hadn't, not with anyone else.

"I am accustomed to it," he said, bringing his whirling thoughts back to the matter at hand. "And I do prefer people not…I think if everyone started squealing over my hair like that I might shave it off," he finally managed, completely honest. He'd avoided cutting it thus far because it reminded him, and because keeping it short enough to hide the curl was a hassle in and of itself. He could not imagine putting up with the kind of cooing Tyr did over his red hair. He'd more than once wondered how the man didn't flee the room, but Tyr seemed to actually enjoy the attention.

"Oh, if you cut it I might just cry." Nala moved around behind him, getting him to sit so she could reach his hair with her trusty comb. Deftly she combed the tangles out, and started weaving the locks together in a tight braid to hide every speck of curl. His hair was silky soft and fine as wine. She may or may not have taken her time with the braiding just to play with the lovely lovely locks. Through this he sat quietly, thinking and idly analyzing the odd sensation of someone else touching his hair, and the even odder one of having someone directly behind him.

Soon enough, she was down to the ends, and wrapped it in a tight little club to hide the last little curl. "What do you think?"

He thought his ears seemed a little more sensitive than normal, but he wasn't telling her that. "Feels secure," he managed, glad she'd apparently taken care to brush against them as little as possible. He actually swallowed when he recalled that many Khajiit had the same sensitivity problem.

"So, does this mean you'll let me do this again?" Nala tried to refrain from bouncing, but was only partially successful.

"If occasion arises, perhaps," he said, unable to hide all his amusement. "Why are you so taken with this?"

Nala cocked her head. "For several reasons. If it makes you feel better, put it down to feminine weakness for soft locks."

He mulled that over, "Ah," he said, not even bothering to hide that he didn't understand.

She smiled, "Be nice, or I'll let your hair down where everyone can see it. You'll never get Ama out of it again. It's enough to make even Wemie act goofy."

"Not for the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last, but your family has me completely confused," he shook his head.

A quick knock heralded Telki popping her head in the door. "You two wanna come join the rest of the family, or you still swooning over spells?" her voice was jovial. "You'll have to see Fey to believe her, and Ama's laughing so hard she can't get her story out yet. I have no clue what it is, but it's bound to be hilarious, especially if the red on Tyr's face is anything to go by. C'mon, come be sociable, it won't kill you just this once." Telki had graduated from cajoling from the door to pulling on each of their hands.

"Don't strain yourself, Telki; we're coming," Talon said dryly, observing this.

"Yay, hurry, Fey's hilarious." Telki put on the dignified air usually seen on Fey, only to burst out in a fair imitation of her voice "Look!  _Tiny shoes!"_  She shook a pair of imaginary shoes in excitement, then returned to towing them into the front hall.


	25. Doubt Thou the Stars are Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ama spills the beans, and the Ebile Cabal's plot thickens
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> Illustration taken in my game, but made awesome by Evil-is-Relative's skills.
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Fey was in throes of delight, busily showing Tyr several small items of clothing she'd found for Blossom and Orien, much of which he stared at with a completely lost smile, but he was obviously enjoying watching her enjoy herself. The Khajiit traders had presented her with several small dressing gowns to choose from, and she'd picked a pink one for Blossom and a deep blue one for Orien that had a matching blanket for Bacon, and soft little slipper-boots for them to wear in their rooms. Orien in particular was still adjusting to shoes, still preferring to be barefoot even when the floors were icy.

Telki had her own goodies she'd gone hunting for. She proudly presented their wonderful host with his own stripes and fur (a knapped union suit done in tiger stripes) along with proper Elsweyr robes so the poor man wouldn't roast in Cyrodiil's heat. Mittens had greeted these with tears of joy and a lot of cuddling.

"Mittens, you've been so kind to us, and I noticed you didn't have very many mementos of home here. I contacted my cousin Rihandi. He's sending you some things as a thank you for hosting us."

The old man stared at her in dumbfoundment, then his face broke into a dazzling smile even as tears leaked from his eyes. "This one is so happy," he said, dabbing his face with the edge of his robe.

Telki pulled him into a big hug. "How would you feel to having family come check on you every so often?"

Her shoulder was getting very soggy by the time Flavianus came up and meowed petulantly at them. Telki scooped Flavianus up in the arm not full of joyfully sobbing Mittens. The cat purred, kneeding his claws on her arm and licking Mitten's head.

"Okay, okay okay. So, everyone here?" Ama was bouncing on her bookshelf, eyes crinkled with stifled laughter that still broke out occasionally in giggles. "'Cause nobody should miss this little tale of derring do."

Tyr buried his face in his hands, turning an interesting shade of red. "Oh, please don't."

"But it was hilaaarious! And so stinkin' sweet the Guildmaster wanted to keep you!" Ama cooed. Tyr groaned.

Fey, glancing from Tyr to Ama suspiciously, finally asked, "What exactly did you two do after we left?"

"I needed to make contact," Ama said breezily. "Knew I shouldn't go alone, so dragged Tyr with me. His cover was a big bad mercenary, and what does he do? Spend the time trying to teach the Guildmaster self defense!" Ama laughed so hard she nearly toppled off her perch.

Tyr winced: Give him an honest battlefield any day; roguing around and cloak and dagger just weren't his strong points. "She looked like anyone else!" he burst out, blush going all the way down the cleft in his shirt to his chest.

"Yes, because the Guildmaster is going to walk around with a label 'Hi, I'm the Imperial Thieves Guildmaster,'" Ama hooted. She explained to Fey, "She was wearing typical barmaid stuff, bantering with another guildie, and swatted at him. Mr. Conscientious here was horrified, and offered to teach her self defense. She was ready to toss him if he patronized her, but his earnestness won him all the sweetroll points."

"She had her thumb inside her fingers!" Tyr tried to explain himself, "She would have broken her thumb if she actually punched like that! I assumed she didn't know better, and she just told me to go on, and seemed really interested…"

Fey had a hand over her mouth, eyes shining and shoulders shaking with repressed laughter as she regarded her husband. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked rhetorically, shaking her head.

"Well, if you don't decide to keep him, I got some excellent offers from the Guildies," Ama teased. "A real gentleman like that is a hot commodity."

Fey's expression darkened slightly, then she lightly glided over to Tyr, set herself in his lap as if sitting down to high dinner, and gave him a kiss that made the Khajiit gape. "I don't share," she told Ama firmly, then smiled a bit wickedly at Tyr's thunderstruck expression.

"Oh, I made sure they understood exactly who Tyr married. After your rather impressive sacking of the Imperial agents made it back to their ears, nobody will be stepping on your territory."

"Oh, I won't kill them," she assured Ama brightly. Tyr shuddered and wrapped his arms around her, more as if he were holding her back than as if he were cuddling her.

"And I assumed Shell got that all from her father," Sanguine muttered to Merc, leaning over the second floor banister and sounding a little too interested for comfort as Tyr assured Fey she had no reason to worry and Ama started to get nervous. He'd set an embarrassed Merc on the padded bench next to him when the mage demonstrated a complete inability to walk just yet.

"Seriously thinking about starting that five day fast?" Merc nudged Sam in the side. The Daedra shuddered. "She's stubborn, and she's set her conditions. I wouldn't want to think about the consequences if you somehow managed to talk her around them."

"Considering that would either involve something horrible happening between her and Giddy first, or— _hic!—_ me getting the hammer after—and not in a good way—I think I'll just keep sighing over it," Sam confessed.

Merc leaned against Sam. "Well, you've still got me, and Lydia's said yes, so there's that." Sam brightened. "Not to mention whatever else you get up to when you have to leave. I'm not going to feel sorry for you, not even a little."

Sam was looking at him pensively. "You ever wanted to try— _hic!—_ being a girl? Or I could be the girl. Being the girl's fun. Lydia will regale you with it, I'm— _hic!—_ sure."

Mercutio tilted his head, as he actually took the time to think about it. "Maybe someday when my self confidence feels less fragile."

Taking his boyfriend's far too pretty chin in his hands, Sam leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss, the kind he normally reserved for swaying stubborn mortals into all kinds of trouble. In this case, he did it to be as distracting as possible. "Trust me, Muffin. You have nothing to worry about."

Merc practically melted. "Just when I think I've got you figured out, you go and surprise me again."

"I'm a Daedra; we do that," he grinned, one arm going around Merc while he watched the scene below. "For instance, before this trip is over, I fully intend to give Blythe more paperwork."

"Seriously, though," Ama settled, putting her serious face on for a moment before Fey could get any scarier. "In one day, Tyr has won the Imperial Thieves Guild to our cause, just by being himself. They can't be bought away from us now. Not after our Guildmaster went to one knee right there an' swore fealty. You don't swear fealty to someone with whom you have romantical designs."

Tyr hid his face in the crook of Fey's neck and shoulder, red again. "I already hate this Emperor stuff," he muttered. She turned her head to hide her face in his strangely damp hair, not wanting to bring up that she'd sworn oaths of fealty to at least two of the marks in her career.

"I also need to set a meeting with Shell," Ama went on, "Have her people meet these people kinda thing."

"Speaking of Shell," Tyr grasped on the change of subject like a drowning man a piece of driftwood, "Are she and Gideon the only ones watching the children? Because I'd pay to see that."

"That's our children, too,  _mellani,"_  Fey reminded him.

"Oh, so Pearl's there. Shell has help." He grinned and shrugged, "Or Gideon has help. Whichever."

"Maybe I should check in on them," Telki mused.

"Come, dear. Help me get this home," Fey said, hopping off Tyr and walking over to where the bundles (and a tired Wemie, who'd carried most of them) waited. Fey had made sure to find the sweets Telki had spoken of before they left and bought her several in thanks. "Besides, if Wemie doesn't get home soon, she'll miss her dinner."

Wemie blushed, fiercely enough it shone through her short fur, looking suspiciously Altmer in effect. "That did not require pointing out."

Tyr grinned, opened his mouth, then shut it before he stuck his foot in it. "I…Have fun. Don't, you know, wear him out or anything." He winced. So much for not saying anything embarrassing.

Wemie gave Tyr a bland look. "Don't worry, I won't. I'll be sure to pass along your confidence in his conversation skills."

"If anyone needs the future Emperor, he'll be at home, unpacking boxes and removing teeth from his foot," Tyr announced, picking up as many boxes as he could in one go and heading for the stairs.

Fey glanced at Wemie and offered, "I'd be happy to do your hair up, if you want me to. I know several styles that would suit you."

"I'd like that. Thank you," Wemie nodded.

The Altmer returned the nod and smiled slightly, then looked around. "I see Talon has continued in his trend of vanishing when people are affectionate."

"Guess who else I don't see? Think she found him?" Wemie softly replied for Fey's ears only.

Seeing Telki was busy assisting Tyr—or possibly explaining some of the clothing items to him, truth be told—Fey asked hesitantly, "Wemie…how serious is your sister about this?"

Wemie started to say something, hesitated, and finally, with all weight of a big sister coming to a revelation herself finally answered. "Completely. I've never seen her put her foot down like she did on this."

"Ah," Fey said, eyes introspective. "I…I hope, for her sake, she's…strong enough for this."

"She is."

"Now we'll see if he gives her a chance to be," Fey sighed, picking up some packages of her own and following the two Dragonborn.

**.**

* * *

 

**.**

Salonia's house was much like every other well-to-do lady of fashion's; impeccably furnished and with very little of her personal taste showing in the public places. It was evening, and as usual she was sitting in her private parlor, wondering what her husband was doing now (and hoping it wasn't  _too_ stupid), and fretting about the snag their plot had hit. Unraveling this issue was now falling to her, as she should have known it would. You never could count on men to do anything right without a lot of oversight.

"Oh isn't that typical?" Salonia's fan fluttered in agitation. "I told him promptly at seven, and it's well after." She stared at her pot in ire: The tea had gone cold, and one simply couldn't reheat good tea. She sighed in frustration, ringing a small bell. When a young maid scurried in, bobbing a curtsy, she waved negligently towards the pot and tray. "Dispose of that and fix a fresh tray." The girl bobbed another hasty curtsy, and removed the tea things quickly. Salonia's disapproving gaze did not shift in the slightest, but the girl didn't garner any chastisement, either.

Once alone, she dropped elegantly onto the lounge, rubbing her forehead with one hand, and tapping her fan with the other. "Why is good help so very impossible to find? Where is that dreadful man?"

As if in answer, a hesitant knock on the door echoed slightly in the wood-paneled room. After a moment, a balding head of dark brown hair over olive skin peeked in timidly. "Milady?"

"Oh finally! Come in! What took you so long?"

The cringe was not reassuring. "I have been in almost constant correspondence with my contacts, milady, and…I'm afraid, even with the increase in price, the fact that the Charging Stallions didn't return—at all—was very damning for doing business with you." After a moment of examining her face, sweating, he finally said, "You've been blacklisted."

"I've been…what?" Salonia's brows drew down and the fan ceased to tap.

"Blacklisted," he repeated, shuffling from foot to foot and wiping his rather broad forehead with a handkerchief. "No one will contract with you until they know what happened to the Stallions."

Salonia huffed. "They died because they weren't as good as they thought they were. What else?" Salonia waved her fan. "Seriously, what else could it have been?"

The man shrugged, perspiring heavily. "I said as much, milady, but as I told you when you had me find them, they were among the best in the market. At least, that were willing to do this kind of job."

Salonia's fluttering fan stopped, and her eyes narrowed at him, her voice colder than a Skyrim winter. "Find me a better market, then. Find me mercenaries as good as they think they are."

"Of course, milady," he said, bending nearly double over his paunch.

Behind him, her lady's maid slipped in, hands clasped behind her back, looking vaguely puzzled and mostly nervous. "Excuse the interruption, milady, sera, but…there is a caller for her ladyship. The lady claims to have something you've been looking for?"

"Really?" Salonia turned to regard her maid. "And did this person present a card?"

The girl rushed over, moving hastily around the rotund man in the center of the room to present a white and red inked card with a lovely painted white orchid on it. Seeing the professional looking card mollified Salonia somewhat. "Oh very well, then. See her in."

"I'll just…see myself out," her middleman said, dabbing his face with his handkerchief.

"Remember, new market. Useful mercenaries, not braggarts with an inflated sense of accomplishment." Salonia waved him out with a delicate flutter of her fan.

A few minutes passed in silence after he literally bowed himself out, finally broken by a soft knock at the door, her maid peering in a moment to see if she were busy. "Milady, Mistress Orchid Apatecia is here to see you."

"Show her in." Salonia stood to receive her guest. Afterall, manners were important. She wondered at the change in title; it wasn't like her servants to get titles wrong. Perhaps she'd wasted her time after all.

The young woman that entered the room certainly looked the part of a lady. Her clothing wasn't overly ornamented, but perfectly tailored and of good material, the kind that never quite went out of fashion and, if properly cared for, could be handed down generations before being cut up and used for patterns. Her silk shaw was in the latest mode, and embroidered with painstaking care—Salonia herself wouldn't turn up her nose at owning it. Matching embroidery on silk cuffs had been added to the sleeves of the gown, and around the neckline, where a simple, elegant pendant that might actually be Ayleid rested just above the slight swell of breasts, which was slightly daring but hardly objectionable. What was most remarkable about the woman however was her face, perfect in nearly every way, with the ideal cream-in-tea tone, slightly flushed cheeks, and long, dark curled eyelashes framing dark brown eyes, the only "imperfection" a small teardrop beauty mark under the outside of one eye. Her hair was piled atop her head in the latest fashion, a hint of that same matching ribbon holding it impossibly in place.

"Lady Carvain," she greeted with a friendly smile, sinking into a perfect, demure curtsy, "It's a pleasure to finally get the chance to speak with you."

The perfect manners and gracious bow left Salonia furiously trying to regain her composure, and she fluttered her fan before returning the courtesy by indicating the opposite sofa. "My pleasure, I assure you. Won't you be seated?"

"That is most kind, your ladyship," Orchid said, walking over daintily and not seating herself until the higher class woman had done so. "I'm afraid my visit isn't as social as a gentlewoman such as yourself might prefer, but it has been difficult for certain parties to get ahold of you."

"Praise the Divines, then. I prefer business to aimless prattle." Salonia adjusted herself more comfortably. "My maid indicated you might be of service to me? How is this so?"

Orchid smiled sweetly, "Well, to be completely frank, milady, my brother is an assassin. He belongs to a small company of them."

Salonia's brows raised as she thought that through. "Is he now?" Salonia gave herself a moment to study this "Orchid." She doubted she'd use her real name to discuss such delicate business. "And how did you learn I was looking for an assassin? That is hardly conduct expected of one my station."

The younger woman glanced down demurely, like a girl asked an improper question by her suitor. "Milady, it is very difficult to find work in such an occupation without knowing how to find those in need of such services."

Lady Salonia looked the girl over long and hard, mind churning. "Alright, suppose for argument's sake I were in the market for an assassin or a group of assassins. How would I know your brother and his little guild could get the job done?"

"Oh," that sweet smile was back, "Would you like a demonstration?"

The lady shook her head. "In all honesty, I cannot think of a demonstration that could compare. This hypothetical job involves heavily fortified places in extremely unfriendly territory far away from here, and bringing people back alive. What demonstration could you give that could match it?"

Touching her lip softly in thought, Orchid looked up toward the muraled ceiling, "You do have a point. We could, of course, give you a free local kill to prove our worth, but that hardly compares to breaking into the Palace of Kings, killing the High King, and returning with Mede's new heirs."

"Half now, half when the children are in my possession." Salonia's eyes were alight with delight. "So nice to find young women as capable and bright as you. I'd quite given up on the next generation."

Orchid inclined her head, "That is high praise from such an esteemed lady. We can begin immediately should you wish. We are willing to give you a few days for the funds if you need to draw them from somewhere."

"Yes, well, it'd simply take a moment speaking with dear old Dum, I'm sure." Salonia's agitated fan told Orchid exactly her thoughts on "dear old Dum."

"Would you prefer having your man compose us an invoice for him?" Orchid inquired, hiding a smile behind her gloved fingers. "We wouldn't want to trouble you overmuch."

"Of course! Of course, we must go about things properly, now, mustn't we?"

"I believe my brother most likely waylaid him in the parlour. He's such an eager young man and tends to anticipate getting things started," the woman said, a hint of apology in her tone for her kinsman's antics. "I can ask your maid if it is so if you'd like to relax a moment."

There wasn't much Lady Salonia could say to that besides the polite, "Why thank you." She'd been neatly and politely outmaneuvered. There was a small cautionary voice in the back of her head, warning her, but the girl had been unfailingly polite, and she knew so much already, there hardly seemed anything she could give away to the girl.

Her man was back in the room in less time than it took to brew a cup of tea, sweating even more profusely than he had earlier, and making several blunders of etiquette in his haste, though he spent an unseemly amount of time simply gawking at her guest.

"Eyes on your work, old man," a voice snapped. A young Imperial man leaned against her doorway, half his face horribly scarred, the other bearing a resemblance to Orchid. Other than his face he was perfectly formed, large for an Imperial, and moving with just as much grace as the young woman.

"Malero!" Orchid protested gently, looking slightly shocked, "that's quite rude. You have not been invited in or announced."

He waved a hand, "So announce me already."

Heaving a quiet sigh, she turned apologetic eyes to Salonia, "Milady, I apologize deeply. This is my brother, Malero. He's rather rough around the edges."

"I'm just trying to make sure this clerk doesn't make the same 'impolite' overtures the last one did," he groused, but bowed to Salonia. "It will be an honor to serve you, milady. No one has asked me to do anything this exciting for a long while."

"By all means, come join your sister, but please, I find that the more nervous one makes a scribe, the more errors they make simply from shivering so."

"Franky, I think my face scares him," Malero said scathingly, striding over to the couch where his sister sat, looking absurdly large next to her small frame. Unlike her, he was not dressed for a social call; though his clothing was in impeccable taste, it was obviously also meant to be moved in. His pants clung to him in ways that were slightly obscene for day-to-day wear, and the cut of his tunic accented the breadth of his shoulders. Salonia always did appreciate a well made man, even if his face had been butchered.

Lady Salonia scoffed. "Of course he is. You survived it, that makes you formidable."

He shot her a very white smile, though Orchid glanced down again, as if something amused her. "In many ways," he told her.

"Do behave, brother dear," Orchid chided lightly. "This is a lady you are speaking to!"

He looked even more amused by that, "Maybe she'll chain me up in her dungeon."

"This is why I don't bring you anywhere," she said primly. "You are being very distracting."

"Maybe I want to be. After all, I am here to offer my services." He laughed when his sister looked downright appalled at that statement.

"So, you're the diplomacy, and he disarms by sheer outrage? Commendable." Salonia settled herself and waved her fan languidly. "So, how much of that flirt is honest interest, and how much is meant to leave an old woman stuttering?"

He grinned, "If you want me to come back after walking my dear little sister home, I'll demonstrate."

Loud honest laughter rang out behind Salonia's fan, laughter that left her redfaced and gasping. "And still, you didn't answer if it's to make me stutter and blush or real interest."

Patting Orchid's perfect coif, he replied, "I wouldn't want to ruin my poor baby sister's sensibilities. She takes after our dear departed mother that way. Woman used to claim I was a changeling."

Salonia considered, and said lowly enough only the siblings could hear her. "If you wish to stop by again later, you may."

Orchid turned a very fetching shade of pink while her brother flashed Salonia that white smile again, "Would you prefer if I used the door or the window?"

Salonia raised an eyebrow. "I'll leave it to your imagination."

"I'm, er, finished," the tubby Imperial clerk said, casting his wide eyes around as if he hadn't just overheard an entirely uncomfortable conversation. He handed the writ to his lady for inspection. The paper was slightly flimsy from his hands.

She perused the damp parchment top to bottom. "This seems in order, if a bit…moist." She gestured for the quill impatiently, eyeing the slightly chewed top with distaste, and quickly signed the writ so she could clean her hands on a lace napkin. "There, get that sorted as quickly as possible, if you please."

Orchid accepted the writ graciously, "I'll deliver it myself tomorrow. At this rate, I'm slightly frightened that my brother would give the poor man a shock. He rather strikes me as the delicate sort." Malero snorted a laugh.

"Thank you, Mistress Orchid. That will do nicely." Lady Salonia folded her fan with a snap. "Well, then. I cannot remember the last time business was such a pleasure."

"It was lovely meeting you, milady," the young woman said, taking that for the dismissal it was and rising, giving a slight curtsey. "We look forward to doing business with you." Malero's lips twitched slightly, obviously putting a different spin on her wording.

She waved towards the door with a negligent hand. "I'm sure Ancilla will be happy to see the two of you out. I do appreciate your help with this delicate matter."

"Of course," Orchid said before Malero could open his mouth. "We are quite happy to offer our services. Have a lovely rest of your evening, milady." At Salonia's nod, they followed the maid out, leaving Salonia with her thoughts. She smiled as she imagined Amaund's face tomorrow when she told him she had the matter neatly handled.

Her smile widened and took on rather predatory tones. No, not Amaund. She'd ring for that uppity Nord High Chancellor. Imagining his face when told the matter was well in hand was an image to give a woman pleasant dreams at night.

Speaking of pleasant dreams, she wondered about that Malero character. She had no delusions there. The boy carried himself like a courtesan, and had probably made a killing in the courts before whatever tragedy befell his face. Pity more women valued a fine face over a well made body, but she'd long lost any respect for most court ladies. Most of them were barely worth having around as decorations, their minds as full of fluff as their wigs.

However, if the boy were willing to pretend interest in her, of all things, she'd certainly avail herself of the welcome distraction. It had been quite the while since she'd had a proper bed warmer.

**.**

* * *

 

**.**

Lady Carvain's pudgy, nervous man nearly floated down the street away from them, contact information for their "assassin's guild" in hand and unsure whether he was disappointed or relieved that Mistress Apatecia wasn't the primary contact. Caught between Orchid's charm and Malero's glower, he felt rather like the fool in a children's story that managed to glimpse the princess beyond the dragon, and wandered off to tell the hero about her.

"Well, that's taken care of," Malero said impatiently, pushing himself off the side of the cream stone wall that encased Carvain Manor and offering her an ironically gentlemanly arm, "Shall we, dear sister?"

Orchid turned, placing her hand properly on his elbow. "If you ever do anything like that ever again," she said pleasantly, "I will ensure you vomit blood for a week."

"But dear sister, her ladyship is lonely," Malero protested in mock-sympathy. "Her husband is all the way in Bruma while she's stuck here, plotting against people."

" _Don't_  ruin this for us," she ordered, ire flashing in her dark eyes as she glanced up at him. "There is too much at stake already without you playing around."

"It's boring here," he complained, leading her through the streets. "Stuck waiting around, smelling your concoctions. Even enchanting is getting tedious." This part of the city was mostly empty this time of day, and the siblings looked more like they were out for a stroll than on business. As the number of people started to pick up as they left the homes of the gentry behind them, Orchid cast a subtle spell, sliding eyes off her brother to her, a common enough trick of young, well-to-do girls with a bit of mage talent in the Imperial City. The capitol was full of beauties; it was his scar that was less forgettable.

"Maybe if you hadn't drawn so much attention to yourself you might still be allowed to go out," she chided, her scathing tone so jarring with her mannered persona he desperately wanted that perspiring pig to hear it. The man would probably wet himself. "You always were lacking in foresight."

"I'm only mixing business with pleasure," he reminded her with a sharp smile, "Sleeping with a mark is hardly as objectionable as some partners I could take," he added, not missing the momentary stutter of her pleasant mask. "So, when do you think our esteemed mage and leader will return from Skyrim? Just the three of us here is…even more boring than when we're all together."

"I don't presume," she told him shortly, and he snorted, looking away. He'd pushed too far and wouldn't get anything more out of her. Trying would likely get him poisoned. Orchid was ridiculously good at coming up with new ways to poison people, but he was a favorite of hers to test them on. Of course, he returned the favor by putting amusing enchantments on her things. Amusing for him, anyway.

The door to their safehouse was in the cellar of an inn, giving the illusion of them having rooms there. The innkeeper was another Young One, of course. Not interesting enough to take from the Orphanage back to the estate on Alinor, so simply raised in one of Dessnia's little training houses on the continent until it was time for him to make his way in the world. Sometimes they never made contact again, thinking they were free. Most of them knew better and weren't hauled back as an example. Besides, they always had jobs and livelihoods waiting for them with other Young Ones, which was a lot better than most orphans could expect. For the most part, they went through their lives just as they were—innkeepers, mercenaries, craftsman, traders—sending any interesting bits of knowledge to their handler and just making general reports when nothing out of the ordinary happened.

"Evening, master, mistress," Cassos Falvirus, as he'd been dubbed, greeted them, making a motion like tipping his hat. Orchid smiled at him, earning a slight smile in return. The Young Ones that never were taken to Alinor were always a little bit in awe of the ones that were, that were special. It was easy to see there was nothing special about Cassos besides his memory, which took in every bit of gossip his customers gave him and faithfully reported it later. Providing their base was probably the most interesting thing he'd had to do in years.

"Good evening, Master Cassos," she replied, pulling Malero to a halt. Her brother never had really grasped the importance of manners between peers; he barely grasped it towards his betters. "How are you fairing this day?"

"Quite well, mistress," he replied, looking a bit dazzled she'd asked. "Nothing too out of the ordinary, but we had a new shipment in if you all want to have a look before the rest of the custom. Oh, and your friend has returned."

"We must go greet her then," Orchid declared. "Thank you for your excellent service."

"It's an honor to serve you, mistress," he said with complete honesty.

Malero snorted and dragged her on, nearly making her stumble. "For someone that always says I don't know when to stop, you're just as bad," he groused, closing the door to the tunnel behind them. Though it was made of heavy wood, the outside was carefully sculpted of rock clay, painted the same dull grey as the rest of the basement. "What do you get out of flirting with that potato-faced bore?"

"I realize it would never occur to you that cooperation is more easily given to someone you like," she remarked coldly, sweeping down the hallway, "but do try not to be even more of an idiot than you usually are. Being polite to an innkeeper is common practice, otherwise you get bad service, or worst, thrown out. It would look odd for him to accept rude treatment from us."

"Being polite is one thing, but you flirt with everyone," he replied, stopping to knock in a rhythmic sequence, then cover the peephole in another before unlocking the door. "It attracts too much attention to always be beating men off you with a stick. We had less trouble when we hid in a brothel."

Orchid's lips pressed together slightly. "I have better things to do than service multiple men a night just to keep up a facade," she said tightly.

"It wasn't that bad," he shrugged, opening the door cautiously.

"For you," she muttered, pushing right passed him. "Where are you, Lizard?"

"I'm here," a gravelly voice called from a shadow, red eyes shining in the dim light before she uncurled and stood in the same motion, moving fluidly to the table. "How was your mission?"

"We got the job, despite someone trying to play courtesan," she reported, shooting her brother a nasty look.

"You had already secured the job for us; she has no other real options, and is smart enough to know it. Noblewomen get bored easy," he reminded her, going and pouring himself some beer, then cutting precisely even slices off the cheesewheel, grabbing some bread and the butter crock, and striding over. Orchid snagged a bit before she sat, accepting the plate Lizard handed her. "They're always looking for the next entertainment, and they like the illusion of danger while being safe in their status. Sleeping with a hired assassin fits that bill."

"And your face heightens the sense of danger, rather than simply diminishing your looks," Lizard nodded, the frill of red feathers sprouting from her skull lifting slightly. "For the moment, I agree with your action. It is good to have more than one way to a mark."

"I hope you aren't expecting her to melt for you," Orchid put in, still skeptical, "She's far too jaded to fall for someone just for what they can do in bed."

"I have to pull the scales from her eyes before she can get stars in them," Malero retorted with a smirk, just to hear her groan in defeat.

"At least if we have to kill her quickly she'll let one of us right in," Lizard shrugged, gathering dried fish and a jar of caviar from the food storage. It was much easier for an Argonian to get caviar, both because they could simply hunt it and because it was a staple of their diet, unlike humans who for some reason considered it a delicacy.

"So how was your mission?" Malero asked, watching the Argonian eat with revolted fascination.

"Some of the team allowed to escape did not make it," she said, untroubled, "but the ones that did earned sympathy from them and were taken in. They believe they are safe, for now. Lee has found a place to watch them unobserved, but it is difficult for even Lee to avoid notice completely. The quality of Young Ones the enemy has managed to attract…"

"I still can't believe Talon turned," Malero stated, munching thoughtfully on his cheese and passing Orchid a bowl of grapes, which she set aside, having lost her appetite. "You think maybe he hasn't, and is just playing with them?"

"Talon never struck me as the type to play such a game," Lizard said with a shiver. "Nor Feyliin. You are thinking of Ilmiyon perhaps, or Faloniril's Bosmer."

"She I can see doing it," he admitted, taking the grapes back and eating them himself. "Ilmiyon's dead, but some of her missions were carried out in just as twisted a manner as he ever did."

"It could be," Lizard said after a moment. "They have rescinded her kill order. She somehow snuck into four estates without detection, and fought her way back out of two of them. She's to be reeducated."

"So either she really impressed them, or she's just laying down the bait for a loyalty test," he surmised, frowning. "If it's the latter, that'll earn her a Name. An actual Name, not just something to call her."

"That doesn't mean as much as it used to," Orchid said flatly, giving them all pause. The stripping of Feyliin's Name for apparently helping orchestrate the escape in the first place—and all to save a human that turned out to be not only far, far more problematic than they'd known and essentially stealing that potential asset from the Thalmor—had shaken the ranks of Young Ones deeply. Despite being a traitor, Feyliin had earned her name and chance at an afterlife. To have it stripped away and be consigned to the Soul Cairn again…What good was working to earn a Name if it could be taken away as punishment?

"Is she really is going to be reeducated, though? If so, I'd hate to be her." Malero shuddered, honest atavistic horror coursing through him.

"She won't lose her skills or knowledge," Lizard shrugged, "just her rebelliousness."

"Are they going to do that to Talon?" Orchid wondered aloud, pursing her lips slightly.

"They say anyone can be broken," Lizard mused, stirring the eggs with a clawed finger, "but I think that requires there to be a personality there to break. They could no more break Talon than they could Lee." Glancing up at Orchid, she added, "Worried about your teacher?"

"It's useless to reeducate a courtesan," Orchid shrugged with perfectly feigned unconcern, "They become too indifferent to properly pretend the emotional depth needed. At best, they can be used as whores."

"Four children is usually the limit for an Altmer anyway, so she wouldn't even be useful for breeding," Malero remarked, taking his dishes to the sink. "Still…do you think Lee can avoid them all?"

"Lee's nature is one of balance," Lizard reminded him, both of them keeping their eyes off the courtesan while she composed herself. What they didn't see, they didn't need to report. "If anyone can slide through the fissures of auras, magic, and society, it is Lee The Null."

"Well, I suppose I should put this dress up and go mix some poisons," Orchid said, leaving her dish for her brother to pick up, as always. She gave him an arch look, "Are you going to need any alchemical help completing your self-assigned mission tupping the old bat?"

"Eat shit, sister dear," he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

Giving him her sweetest smile, she flounced back around and headed toward the back. She'd make some help anyway, something to inflame an old woman's senses, perhaps sent through the air, or that absorbed through the skin. This was too good an opportunity to waste on her reckless brother's meager skills.


	26. Doubt the Sun Doth Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shell has self-doubt, Heron nearly gets arrested, and Blythe and Talon have a frank discussion.
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> Picture taken in my husband's game, edited by the ever skillful Evil.  
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> edit: You may have noticed the chapter names changed. We got off count and had to re-derange them. Sorry 'bout that.

 

Shell took a deep, cleansing breath like she'd seen her mother do countless times, forehead resting on her folded arms on the table. The children were out back—everyone was out back—playing something called "duck, duck, goose" that actually had them sitting still for a moment, and she'd excused herself and went inside for a much-needed moment of solitude.

Anu help her, but this was exhausting. Not the playing part—she could do that all day—but the constantly making sure they didn't hurt themselves part, the dodging questions of a particular kind part, and the wondering if she was doing this right part. The other adults seemed to juggle the whole discipline and play thing, but twice now she'd thought they had gotten away with something only to learn that the scolding or time out they had gotten  _was_ punishment.

A very large part of her mind was insisting that it was a trick, though the logical part knew it was no such thing. She wouldn't hurt one of them for all the gold in Cyrodiil, but she dreaded the moment she caught one of them doing something when one of the other adults wasn't around to suggest a proper response. All the punishments she'd learned by their age had involved pain, or at least tears. Faloniril had once locked her in a small clothes chest for half a day and told her she was getting off easy. She was, in a way. He usually cast Fear on whoever was in there.

Oh, Auriel, what if she really was too warped for this?

"Momma Shell? Are you okay?" Big brown eyes full of concern were staring at Shell from about table height. Sofie had come to check on her. "You were shivering, so I brunged you the blanket I made you. Well, Luci helped, but I did most of it." She held up a rather lopsided and colorful crocheted blanket, made from soft wool that still smelled of lanolin.

"You made me something?" Shell asked, astonished.

"Yeah, the adults were talking, and I made you a hat, because they were talking about you having to change your hair, and I like your hair, and if you were having to change your hair because it's cold, or having to share a bed 'cause you're cold, and I still had a whole skein of wool, and Lucia said she'd help me make you a blanket too." Sofie gently tucked her rainbow offering into Shell's lap. "Momma Telki even got me more wool when it ran out too short."

Dumbfounded, Shell unfolded the colorful, clumsily made blanket, throat feeling weirdly tight. "I don't know what to say. Thank you, Sofie."

"You're welcome. Hope it keeps you warm!" Sofie chirped and waved as she skipped back outside.

Shell gazed after her a long moment before looking back to the blanket in her hands, simply staring at it and running her fingers lightly over the uneven stitches. After a minute or so, she hugged it to her, burying her face in the wool.

Strong arms wrapped around her, lifting her and then placing her in a familiar lap. "You look like you're thinking heavy thoughts." Gideon cradled her close, his hand running familiar patterns on her back.

"That's the nicest thing anyone's done for me since you knocked Uncle off me," she said, words muffled by the blanket. "I mean, a lot of people have been nice, and Rommy made sure I wasn't turning into a weird copy of Ilmiyon, but Gideon, she doesn't even know me! And she was worried about me enough to do this!"

Gideon gently rocked Shell while he thought of a good response. "We found Sofie here in Windhelm. One of the many overlooked by the damned 'Civil War.' Her mother died of sickness, and her father died fighting the Imperials. She was making shift as she could selling flowers and sleeping on the floor at the New Gnisis. She'd still find time to make sure Silda had a warm place before she went to sleep herself."

Shell went very still. "How old was she?"

"Quite young. We're still not sure how she managed."

Pushing herself up, she hopped up and strode toward the door. "Excuse me, I have to go stab Windhelm."

Gideon laughed and grabbed her back to him. "It was taken care long ago, Shell. It was one of the many reasons Ulfric spent a night as a Dunmer." He rubbed up and down her arms. "Now, what had you beating your head on the table before Sofie sidetracked you?"

"I…" she trailed off, looking down at the blanket cradled in her arms. "Have you ever looked directly at the sun?"

"Only accidentally. I don't recommend it." Gideon winced, "Especially when coming out of a dungeon."

"You know those afterimages that stay on your eyes? Where you can see the darkness even in the middle of all that light?"

"Yes."

"I feel like I'm going to leave those spots all over all these little bright lights," she confessed glumly. "Like my past is going to come out and affect them no matter what. I feel like a disease, or a rune waiting to be triggered."

Gideon sighed, still gently rubbing her arms. "Do you know what reassures me the most that won't happen?"

"There's a Daedric Prince that can see mental warping that will swat me if I go too far down that path?" she guessed.

"No," Gideon snorted. He made himself a mental note to have a talk with Rommy. Apparently, Things Were Discussed without him. "That you're worried about it. No one will guard your actions more than your own concerns."

Sagging against him slightly, she sighed. "That's the thing—I don't always know what's right or wrong. I was late for training and got used as the target in Sparks practice. I haven't even seen any of them spanked."

Gideon propped his chin on her head. "What would you consider an offense that required spanking?"

"I haven't the fuzziest idea," she confessed.

"Well, generally, it involves something dangerous that they've already been warned not to do. Blaise got his little backside blistered over the alchemy towers, well, after the second one, anyway. He still had to help clean up the first one." Gideon gently rocked her. "Most cases, the punishment fits the crime. If they mess something up, they have to clean and repair it. If they hurt a sibling's feelings, they have to make that sibling feel better." Gideon leaned around to place a kiss on her cheek. "However, it might also help you to know we're mostly just winging it ourselves. There is no book 'Mara's Best Parenting Tips', because no two families work the same way."

"I am going to be asking for a lot of advice. I may give up and take a page from Talon's book and simply make them run or do a hundred jumps or something," Shell worried her lip, thinking aloud. "I mean, that was sort of what you did to Haffod."

"It is." Gideon smiled as she thought her worries through. "So many things decide how a person will respond. Age, temperament, even intelligence figures into it." Lightly kissing the top of her head, he added, "And I will eat Eorlund's best anvil if you aren't smart enough to be running circles around these yahoos of ours within a month."

Shell blushed and finally looked up at him, wrinkling her nose. "I'd best get back to analyzing them, then. And they're hooligans," she reminded him, twisting in his arms to reach up and tap the tip of his nose. "Hooligans are young yahoos."

Gideon's smile widened, standing and setting her on her feet. "Of course, how could I forget?"

Pausing, she tilted her head, simply smiling up at him and enjoying the way his eyes were twinkling, and the things his smile did to her heart and stomach that from time to time she still wondered was some kind of sickness. His skin was warm against the layers of cloth she wore against the cold, and the steady thrumming of his heart under her right hand was a reassuring, grounding sensation. She considered leaning her cheek against it, but that would mean she had to stop looking at him.

Gideon bent forward enough to gently rub noses with her. "And what are you thinking, to put that look on your face? I wouldn't mind seeing it more often."

"Have you ever done that butterfly thing with Rommy? Where he turns you into a bunch of them and you fly around so fast everything is a dizzy blur, but in a good way, like when you were a child and spinning around just for the joy of it?"

"Rommy's transported me that way once or twice. I am familiar with that feeling. What has you feeling that way right now?"

"That way? Nothing really, but it's the closest I can think of," she grinned ruefully, eyes bright.

"Stop that right now, or there'll be consequences." Gideon playfully tapped her nose. "We're supposed to be helping watch the children."

Honestly confused, she drew back a little, "I didn't do anything," she protested.

"You weren't looking at me with bright eyes and a gorgeous smile begging to be kissed?" Gideon raised one skeptical brow.

"Says the man that proclaims 'come hither' with every breath?" she sassed, linking her fingers behind his neck. She had to stand on her toes to do it. "I've been being good all day."

Gideon slid an eye out the open door, to where the children had moved on from duck duck goose to some game that involved a lot of running and shrieking. It looked like a game of freeze tag, with snowballs. "Me? No. I'm just a simple paladin of Shor that your dazzling smiles and brilliant eyes are trying to tempt into going back to bed, instead of fulfilling my parental duty riding herd on my progeny."

Tilting her head to glance out the window, she asked idly, "How do you feel about closets?"

"Very cosy, especially with good company." Gideon had just gathered her back up and headed for the nearest closet when there came a knock on the front door. Gideon buried his face in Shell's ample bosom and groaned.

"You better not be starting that again!" Shell remonstrated in the general direction of the ceiling. Her only answer was the knock coming again, a little more forcefully.

Gideon reluctantly set Shell on her feet, kissing her stormy expression one more time before heading to the door. "Who's there?"

"Windhelm guard. Open up!" called a gruff voice through the wood.

"Truly?" Gideon raised his eyebrows at Shell. "Who's sent you, and why?"

"Please open up before they arrest me," Heron called politely.

"Much better." Gideon opened the door, to see a rather unamused Heron standing between two guards. "Heron, what've you done?"

"Still trying to figure that out myself," he replied.

Gideon looked to the guard on Heron's right for an explanation. "What's the boy done?"

"Harassing townsfolk, skulking about, and lollygagging," the guard replied.

"What's lollygagging?" Shell asked, eyes bouncing from the guards to Gideon and back again.

"I didn't 'harass' anyone!" Heron put in heatedly, "I asked for directions. I got as far as 'hello, do you know where,' before I was detained."

Gideon raised an eyebrow at the guard. "Who's bringing a complaint against the boy?"

"No one, yet. That's why we escorted him here," the first guard said.

"Didn't actually think he lived here," the other put in, still with a hand full of Heron's cuff, "but you never know with the Dragonborn."

"Aye. This is one of her Rescues. He's here looking for his parents among the Alinor prisoners." Gideon gave them his paladin glare, "We'd be very put out if he's harassed just for trying to learn the town to find them."

"He stays inside the law and keeps to himself, he's fine," the guard didn't back down.

Shell rolled her eyes and reached out, twisting the one's hand from the boy's clothing and jerking him inside. "Daughter or niece?" she asked the first guard.

"I don't stand for anyone harassing any young girl," he began, then paused at the look she shot him.

"He's no danger to your daughter," she said softly, a hint of steel in her eyes that implied she might be a danger to him if he continued.

The second guard elbowed him, "Best lock up your son."

Gideon pinched his nose, begging Shor for patience. "Heron will be leaving the moment we locate his parents and living with them. He will not be chasing anyone's anything. He wants to find his parents. That's all. If you gentlemen actually aided in this search, he'd be away from your children that much faster."

"Can't say I've seen anyone he reminds me of," the second guard said, tilting his head to examine Heron, who glared right back.

Gideon sighed. "Aye, that's what we've been running into, and has sent Heron out looking for himself. Thank you for bringing him home. Next time, we'll have someone with him, so nobody has to be harassed." Gideon nodded politely to the guards before closing the door, turning immediately to catch Heron's sulk. Given the circumstances, he couldn't really hold that against him.

"And that is why you need someone with you, so the guards don't have fits, especially guards with daughters your age." Gideon leaned against the door, face in his hand, caught between frustration and hilarity. "I am sorry your first foray into Windhelm was so eventful."

"What, with apparently the entire city thinking I'm sent by Sanguine to corrupt their youth?" he asked angrily, bristling.

"Believe it or not, I know the feeling." Gideon tilted his head to look at him. "It took donning paladin armor before anyone saw anything but the next Domanio."

"Don't look at me," Shell raised her hands in surrender. "I probably  _was_ there to corrupt the youth." Dropping them to her sides, she frowned at Heron. "What were you doing, anyway?"

He sighed, running his hand over his head as if his hair was much longer than it was, making Shell think that he had needed to cut it very recently. "I know this might take a long time," he said, walking over to the table and sinking onto the bench, facing outward. "I don't want to impose on you all. I want to do something myself. I thought, maybe if I found the Alchemy shop, they might see what I can do and give me a job. I mean, I can't make amazing stuff, but I'm really good at Health and Stamina potions—Sura made this trick where you can actually charge it with a small amount of magicka to make it stronger. If I could get a job and finance myself, I'll…look better? Less like a crazy, Thalmor-raised child unable to do anything but flirt and kill, anyway."

Gideon had folded his arms as he listened, the clouds on his face darkening as Heron's speech continued. "Heron, your parents already know you've been through hell and back. You have nothing you need to prove to them. That you've survived, and are whole enough you can even worry about that means you're far stronger, and a far better person, than they have any right to hope survived being raised by Thalmor.

"If you want to get a job at the alchemy shop, that's fine, but we could honestly use you here. You've surely noticed we can always use an extra hand with the kids here, and not only do we have a fully stocked alchemist workshop, we're constantly running through heals. Telki might even take you on as an apprentice so she can keep Sam in his mead. You'd be earning your keep and a bit more besides, without having to worry about guards giving you grief on the street."

Heron thought about this a long moment. "I'd be grateful," he finally said, genuine humility in his voice. Shell's eyebrows shot up, then lowered with a slightly worried look. Young Ones of Heron's type generally weren't known for being humble unless they'd had the arrogance forcefully knocked out of them.

Gideon smiled widely at the boy. "Good, because I had no wish to deal with Telki's pout when she came home and you're gone."

Looking slightly strained, Heron added, "I really need to get out of this house sometimes, though. I'm used to people my own age, and it just gets a little…loud?"

Gideon's chuckle rolled like a friendly rumble of thunder. "Oh, they can get a lot loud. I can see about Galmar working you with the young recruits? Hell, you're probably experienced enough you could be training recruits. Or would working with Wuunferth the mage be more to your liking, or a mix of the two? Wuunferth for the quiet, Galmar for the company?"

"I'd rather avoid the Stormcloaks, if it's all the same to you," he said firmly. "Before my face started doing that weird attractive thing, they were grooming me to join them and spy."

Gideon's brows lowered. "I'm sorry they put you through that. I rather wonder how far off the mark their 'training' to be a Stormcloak was, given their pathological dislike of all things Nord."

"Oh, I got to yell 'Skyrim's for the Nords!' while being scowled at," he said, smiling a little. "It was sort of fun to throw that kind of rhetoric right back at them."

Gideon's hand was back on his face, "Oh Shor, it's worse than I thought."

"They used to pit me against recently captured fighters to see how I'd do in battle conditions. I was getting pretty good with a greatsword," he said, a little wistfully. His face darkened briefly, and his shook his head. "Still, I like putting people together a lot better than taking them apart."

"Sura says you're good with Restoration magic," Shell put in, examining him pensively. "Have you ever thought of developing that?"

The boy perked up slightly. "Not really. I like the sound of it though. Do you think Talon would mind showing me some things? He scares the shit out of me, but the residuals I saw on Sura's ankle were from things I didn't even know could be done."

"I think, Heron, you asking Talon for healing lessons would literally brighten his day," Gideon smiled. "But you'd have to share, he's already got quite the roster."

"I have no problem just watching next time he works on Sura," the young Nord replied, leaning back a little, then pausing as if something had occurred to him. "Um, about Sura," he started.

Gideon felt his stomach drop, already running through ways to break the news to Haffod and Alesan that Sura was as good as taken. "You've nothing to fear here, Heron. Ask whatever you need or want. If we can, we'll answer."

"Well," his cheeks turned slightly pink, and he looked horribly embarrassed. "Myself and another of our team were trained in certain areas differently. We were given a very explicit education in some ways." He winced, "But this morning I overheard the cute little redhead kid ask her where Telki's baby was going to come from and she said she thought the Thalmor brought them. I am pretty sure the talk of 'this happens, don't do it unless you're told to' was the only talk they got on that subject before we left."

Oh, Shor, that was almost worse. Gideon's other hand joined the first on his face. "She needs the Talk, then. Shell? Paladin training did not cover this."

She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "Exactly how explicit am I  _not_ supposed to be, because I'm pretty sure I got the same type of training as Heron."

Gideon laid his head back and groaned. "Sura's of an age, and she's pretty. She needs to know when someone is making an advance on her, and she needs to know the consequences if she says yes. I don't really know what all she'd need to know to keep herself safe if she does decide to…I'm not ready for this. Shor's bones."

"Alright, plan B," Heron took a deep breath. "Ask Murril to follow her around with the atronach."

Gideon chuckled weakly, "No, I just realized Lucia's not that much younger than Sura. She needs to know these things, too." Gideon felt his shoulders relax as emotions flitted across Heron's face. It was clear there was no interest on Heron's part where Lucia was concerned. From puzzlement to acknowledgment, there was nothing there to make the protective caveman in the back of his head react. In fact, it looked as if it hadn't even occurred to Heron that Lucia was also nearly of age.

From the look Shell was giving him, she knew exactly what he was thinking. "We'll take care of it, Heron. In the meantime, why don't you take Sura or Alesan or one of the older ones with you when you go out? That way, at least you're lost together." She shrugged, "I admit, I usually take to the roofs when I get lost in this city."

Gideon's smirk slid into place watching her. "Stay with whoever you decide to escort. All of the kids are familiar enough you won't get lost, no matter where you go."

Cocking a hip, she gave him a somewhat aggrieved look, "And how exactly am I supposed to rob someone under those conditions?"

Gideon leaned back, arms folded. "Why would you need or want to rob someone in this city now? If you must," Gideon gives her his best stern glare, "scope the place out. Arrange a meeting place with one of the kids, go rob, then meet the kid at the prearranged place, though anyone you think needs stealing from probably needs an audience with Ulfric's jailors."

She dimpled, eyes shining mischievously. "If you ever wonder why I love you, that's one of the reasons."

Gideon gave her a puzzled look, eyebrow raised. "You do remember I follow a trickster god, yes?" He tapped his fox medallion for good measure.

Heron took one look at the impish look on the woman's face and stood. "I'm going to go now. Right now. Good bye."

Shell waited about three seconds from when he left to purr, "And how do followers of the Trickster feel about closets?"

A wide predatory grin and a heft over his shoulder later answered her. "Closet. Now." Shell giggled.

**.**

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**.**

  
The acolytes at the Temple of Auriel were good at being inconspicuous. They moved about, lighting lamps in the gathering gloom, bestowing vague blessings on the passersby before heading into the temple proper for sundown service. The stained glass of the main window brightened even as the sky dimmed, sending golden rays of filtered candlelight through the colored panes of glass comprising Auriel's sun. Singing echoed faintly across the rooftops, and pigeons took flight momentarily at the sound, only to land once again on the temple.

"There are moments when you are stunningly predictable."

Talon sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the chimney he'd chosen as a backrest. "What are you doing here?"

"Strangest thing happened today," Blythe said, settling herself a safe distance from him and shaking out her skirts. Roof-running aside, she had been raised in a decent Breton family, and wasn't about to show her calves and knees a moment longer than was necessary. "One of my customers likes to share all the juicy gossip, and it seems one of the professors at the Imperial University is cavorting with one of the students. An apprentice found them necking in the rare book room, and of course only professors can get in there," she drawled.

"How is this interesting?" he asked, eyes flicking back to the glowing glass window.

"Only that I know you and that hyper-focused mage sister of the Dragonborn were going to raid the University library, and now she's searching the house for you, looking more lost kitten than Khajiit mage." The woman lifted her braid off her neck, letting the cool night air dry the sweat from it. "So, way I have it figured, you kissed, discovered you aren't quite the Frost Atronach you thought you were, and now you're planning to ruin every chance of happiness you might have with this woman by colossally overthinking things."

"I do not see how any of this is your affair," he stated coolly, face as much a mask as he'd kept it under Faloniril.

"I'm hurt. Here I thought we were all a big dysfunctional extended family," Blythe pouted mockingly at him, exaggerating the expression so that her round face looked positively pugish. "And my 'affair' is back in Windhelm, which is where I'd much rather be, but there was a sad Khajiit asking me if I knew where you were in front of the portal."

"How did you know where I was?" he asked, glancing at her.

She shrugged. "I read your full dossier, remember? Your mother was a priestess of Auriel. Where do men go when they're feeling uncertain? It's not like you're about to seek your father out."

"As you sought out yours?" Talon challenged mildly, eyes golden as the bubbly leaded glass rays flickering over to regard her.

"He's better off thinking me dead," Blythe repeated firmly, turning her own eyes to the painted sky beyond the rooftops. It was tinted lavender, but quickly darkening. The first few stars of the Atronach were peeking through.

"Unlike my father, yours has nothing left, Sorcha," he said, watching her flinch. "I think it would help him a great deal to know you live."

"Why are you so interested in this?" she cried, hiding her whirling emotions under a thick layer of exasperation.

"Big dysfunctional family," he reminded her, earning a scowl. He let that rest for a moment before adding. "I felt guilty, sometimes. I knew that you were strong enough to survive, but you would be miserable for a long time. I consoled myself that it would be better than letting them soul trap and kill you. At least this way, you could work to find a way out."

"Soul trap didn't work on me anyway," she grumbled, eyes averted as she processed this. "I was already god-bound."

"Then perhaps I should apologize," Talon said softly.

"Nah. You were right. I managed," Blythe said gruffly, brushing off her skirt. "Besides, I'm useful here. I'm useful to Shell and the others, and despite my boss I do enjoy my work at the depot."

Turning his gaze from the window, he studied her, remembering finding her with the bodies of her older sisters, wounded and covered with blood, still holding an Akaviri shortsword to try to keep the Thalmor soldiers playing with her at bay. They'd razed the entire town that day, simply for garrisoning so many Blade families. She'd seen it all, and still had been ready to go down fighting. She hadn't stopped fighting, resisting all through her training even while everyone assumed from her docile acceptance that she'd capitulated. "I've never known you to be a coward," he finally said.

She stared at him, shocked, then her gaze hardened. "And you? Aren't you actively running from something you want? Don't deny it, either. There is hardly a moment you're with her that you're not smiling. You, the man with a face of granite."

"I will speak to her of my thoughts," he revealed, "I simply needed to sort out what they were, first."

"Oh," she blinked, then flushed a bit, lips puckered in annoyance. "You were using me trying to draw you out to draw me out, weren't you?"

"I think you are very unhappy here," Talon said, shifting a bit more comfortably on the roof tile. "You have a father that would be overjoyed to know you're alive, a man wanting to be a lover, and a Name to reclaim. You do yourself a disservice moldering away here."

"You have all those things yourself," she rejoined, a touch waspishly. "Father, lover, name. Molag's hairy balls, you could even go back to Alinor and live with your son."

"That will be the last you speak on that," he said firmly, giving her a warning look.

Blythe twitched, the fear of Trainers too ingrained to ignore the implied threat. "Fine," she said curtly, standing. "I'll be in Windhelm if you need me. If you see my Overseer skulking about, do kill him, would you? I might actually get a proper vacation before they get someone else in place."

"I'll consider it," he promised, not watching as she left. The stylized clouds of the glass window were dimming as the service came to a close, the panes of sky around them taking up the hues of magelights, reminding him of softly gleaming blue eyes in the darkness.


	27. Doubt Truth to be a Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big news. Some take it better than others.
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> Illustration taken in husband's game.
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Telki did not realize her trip to see her kids was going to turn into yet another three ring circus, but there it was. Sam decided it would be a great time to find out who the 'bean' belonged to, which meant all the menfolk had to be there, which meant  _every-stinkin'_ - _one_  followed her back to Hjerim. She was rather surprised Mittens hadn't decided to come through the portal with them.

Tyr had sighed when they got back and borrowed her wheelbarrow to get Fey's purchases back to the Palace, looking around and noting she had more than enough to deal with before trudging out the door. Fey and Wemie were already debating what sort of thing she should wear to dine with Ulfric. Blythe had come on through the Portal just as they were setting the table, raised an eyebrow at all the kids, cursed when her hair tie broke, and hurried on through with a rueful wave, instructing Telki to tell her who the father was later.

Lucia had burst through the door mid-dinner, eyes shining in a way that instantly put all her fathers on edge, babbling, "Oh my Divines! You'll never guess what happened! We were all walking with Heron, because the guards are big bullies, and Heron needed us to keep them off him, and then we all went down by the river—well, all of us being Haffod, Sura, Alesan, Heron, and me, and oh my goodness, why are you still sitting there, we need blankets quick!"

"Did someone fall in?" Shell asked, alarmed, the same time Mercutio was coming out of his seat, face full of fatherly wrath.

"Why were you down by the river with Heron?" It was clear he was trying, but barely keeping a lid on his temper. Sam looked fascinated.

"Merc, remember what happened the last time you flew off the handle. Please settle." Telki bustled by with an armful of fluffy blankets. "Who'm I swaddling and why?"

"Uh, that'd be me," Heron said, shivering and walking in wearing Haffod's cloak over his own. It wiggled oddly. "Only, I think I can manage myself, thanks."

"Well hello, who've we here?" Telki eyed the wriggling bundle curiously.

"I second that— _hic!_ —question," Sam said, keenly eyeing Heron.

"It won't let go of me," Heron said plaintively, allowing her to usher him to a chair. She tried to flip the bundle from the soaking cloak onto the warm, dry blanket, but it clung to Heron. Golden eyes blinked at her as a long pointy snout grumbled at her crossly.

"Here, let's remove the cloaks, then, they're soaked, and wrap the both of you in nice warm blankets. There, there, I'm not taking your Heron from you. He's yours." Telki quickly suited actions to words, and soon had boy and fox swathed and warming by the fire. The light caught on the animal's fur oddly, the edges of each strand holding and scattering the light, even the side in shadow.

Gideon took one look and laughed uproariously. "Heron-me-lad, I don't know who you were, but I know who you're going to be!"

"A fox attendant, apparently," he groused, completely missing the subtext as he tried to lift the fox from him. "I thought it was cats that adopted people." He paused, glanced at Telki, then wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Heron, who does the fox belong to?" Gideon tapped his medallion again, still grinning.

" _Mellani,_  are you saying the Trickster just gave Heron a vocation?" Shell asked incredulously.

"Sam knows. Ask him." Gideon could not stop grinning.

Sam was sighing, cheek propped on hand. "He could have been so much— _hic!—_ fun in a few years. Now he's affiliated."

Gideon snorted. "As if you and Shor haven't gone out carousing. I know my tales."

"Yeah, but he punched me last time I went rolling around in Dibella's hair," Sam groused. "I haven't gotten over that. He didn't even spank me afterwards."

"I'm willing to bet he didn't punch you until you ignored Dibella saying 'no'." Gideon wiggled a finger at him. "Listen next time."

"She didn't say 'no,' she just tried to set me on fire. Big difference," Sam said, dropping his hand to look at Gideon, wondering what all Shor was sharing with his followers. Aedra, honestly.

"Could someone please explain this to me?" Heron asked peevishly, still trying to wrest the fox from his front. It bit his fingers, then snuggled right back up to him when he let go.

"Um, honey, you just got tagged by Shor himself. He's claimed you as one of his own. How would you like to try your hand at being a paladin?" Telki tousled his hair with a towel, drying it as best she could.

"This is the stupidest thing to happen since we got here," Demeus grumbled. Murril stamped her foot at him and released the atronach. Luckily for Demeus, he wasn't thinking anything that set off its enchantments, and the two just ended up eyeing each other warily.

"Careful, or you could be claimed next," Telki teased the grump. "Next thing you know, you could have moths nesting in your hair, or hawks," she eyed Sam, "Or the other side of the family could come calling. I don't recommend gathering any more of their notice. Some aren't as nice as the ones you've met."

"Un-bloody-believable," the Redguard muttered, pressing his palms to his eyes.

"I'm the one that just got claimed by a fluffy god of trickery," Heron snapped.

"Don't mind him, sugar, he's just worried he's unlovable," Telki soothed. "It's gonna take awhile to teach him otherwise." Telki shook an admonishing finger at Heron, "And I'm rather fond of fluffy trickster gods, so watch it."

"Well I pulled the fluffy trickster god from a river, and he bit me," Heron replied, holding up his finger as evidence, then Healing it.

"Can I pet it?" Sura asked hopefully, still being held carefully in Alesan's arms. He hadn't wanted to relinquish her to a chair just yet. He'd had quite the time glaring protectively at the young Stormcloak recruits that had been eying them.

Telki eyed the ball of fluff in Heron's arms. "Well, Fluff, can she? Or you still in a biting mood?"

The fox made a chuckling sound and rolled over on Heron's lap, exposing his belly and wagging his wet tail around, tongue lolling. Telki watched his antics with a indulgent smile. "That's a 'yes, please pet me' if ever I saw one, Sura. Like most men, he's a sucker for a pretty girl."

The girl giggled and blushed a little, tugging at Alesan's collar, "I can't pet him from here!" she scolded lightly, eyes shining.

"As my Lady wishes," Alesan gallantly carried her closer to the fox, swooping down to one knee so she could easily pet the suddenly gregarious fox.

"You bite her, I'm throwing you," Heron warned the fox, which gave him an affronted look and sneezed. He was all good behavior when Sura started stroking his head, however, even snuggling in and making little contented noises.

"You're so cute!" she cooed. "Want me to get all that nasty water out of your fur? I fell in that river too; it wasn't fun." When it just kept snuggling into her hand, she lifted her other and waggled her fingers a bit, little illusory cubes in shining green light dancing about them. Water beaded up on the fox's fur and started to run down into Heron's lap.

"Thanks, Sura," the boy said ironically.

"I'm getting to you, goose," she remonstrated with another giggle, "I just thought maybe you should be somewhere with a drain first."

"Well, Fluff? Your claim has been recognized, will you turn loose of Heron long enough for him to get dried off?" Telki was still bustling about, using towels and children to clean trails of water up.

Sitting up, the fox looked around and scratched an ear with a black-mitted back leg before giving a strange little bark and jumping on Haffod. Heron sighed in relief and sagged in the chair while Haffod froze in place, a sound oddly reminiscent of a teakettle escaping his parted lips as he regarded the fox using him as a chair with a comical mix of awe and fear.

Sura giggled so hard she hid her face instinctively in Alesan's chest to muffle it. "I didn't know foxes could snicker!"

Erandur chuckled from his seat behind all the hullabaloo, seeing Alesan puff up his chest as Sura buried her face in it. He wondered if they'd have to have it surgically deflated; the boy was holding so much air it was straining his tunic seams. He also worried about Haffod. Knowing and following Shor was one thing. Being used as his avatar's personal seat was another thing entirely.

"Is this how it worked for you?" Shell asked Gideon quietly, taking in the scene and throwing a roll at Sam when he looked too interested. He clutched the back of his head and gave her a wounded pout.

"Not quite. I followed a friend into the woods near our farm. He found a sabercat, or rather, it found him. He stayed behind me while I made enough of a nuisance with sharp rocks and my practice blade that it finally decided we weren't worth the trouble. By then, we were so turned around and lost, we would never find our way home. That's when a fox appeared, snow white with glowing eyes. It sat there looking at us until we walked towards it. It led us out, the coat turning to a normal fox's once we reached the edge of the woods. The old priest watching didn't need clues like glowing eyes or white coats to know who it was. I was sent to the Temple the next week."

"Huh," she said thoughtfully. "Much more prophetic than my own invitation, but then, yours seemed a little more like a broad hint. And that," she waved at Heron, "is definitely a command."

Gideon laughed, "I think so, too." He turned to where Haffod still hadn't moved. "Haffod, relax. If he disapproved of you, he wouldn't be sitting there."

"Bit me!" Heron reminded him without looking up, holding up the offended hand.

Gideon raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't it have been rather suspicious if you fetched a fox out of the water that didn't react like a fox?"

"It  _doesn't_ act like a fox," came the immediate reply.

"Now, safely in here, among people that know. While you were amongst eyes, though?" Telki bustled over. "Why are you still sitting and dripping? Fluff moved so we could fix this. Do you really need me to act as your bath attendant? Shoo, go get clean and warm. I'll have clothes waiting on you."

"Thank you," he said earnestly, standing and wincing as he kept dripping. "I'll, ah, take care of that if you want to leave it that long."

"I have an abundance of young helpers and plenty of old rags. No worries. Shoo." Telki waved his protests on out, and turned around just in time to see Murril. She had picked up the atronach and was holding it up to Demeus, who was trying to fend them both off without getting yelled at, annoyed look on his face.

"Murril, honey, I know you love the Mininach, but Demeus has good reason not to be so fond of it. You can come show me, though." Telki sat down on Merc's lap, and beckoned her over. "Have you taught it something new?"

The little Altmer looked at Telki, then at Demeus, then put the small whirling tumble of stones and toys down on the bench next to the Redguard, and pointed at Shell. Demeus followed her hand automatically, then yelped when the atronach shocked him. Murril erupted in giggles.

"Murril!" Telki gasped, trying to stifle her own laughter. "That is not how you make friends, dear."

"Is she always going to get away with that?" Demeus scowled. Murril looked up at him innocently. The scowl deepened.

"Murril, if you keep doing things like that, I'll have to put Mini up."

She shook her head and made little finger wiggles around the atronach, then looked at Telki.

Telki tilted her head. "Murril, are you wanting me to change Mini?"

"She wants you to call it Sparkles," Demeus said, hands pressed to his face and looking very stressed. "She does the same thing to Sura when she wants her to do Illusions."

Telki gave Demeus a warm look. "Thank you. Is Demeus right? You want it named Sparkles?"

Beaming, Murril nodded, head bobbing like it wanted to come off, then climbed onto the bench and gave Demues a little kiss on the cheek. He flushed, giving her a surprised look.

"Very well, but I mean it. No more tricking Demeus into getting sparked. Else Sparkles will be taking a break in the pouch."

That earned her a very pretty pout as Murril hugged her little friend, balls and a bit of lint whirling around outside her arms.

"When's that mage getting here, again?" Demeus mumbled.

"I'm going to get him and drag him home tomorrow. He said five days, I gave him five and a half." Telki caught Sam making a face at her. "I've been patient, I've been good. Now, I'm bringing him home. Like I told him, and like I told you, he has to trust me sometime with all of him. I never expected you, of all people , to underestimate me." Telki gave him her best wounded kitty face.

"I never— _hic!—_ underestimate you, Sis," Sam said, pushing peas around on his token plate, "I just— _hic!—_ went to see him, and think maybe you should wait for it to— _hic!—_ wear off."

"Sam," Telki said softly. "You realize this is right up there with Merc's issue? So long as he's allowed to think he's too gone or too crazy or whatever he's thinking he'll always be worried and we can't have a real relationship. He has to know I can, will, and forever handle even the worst of him."

Sanguine gave her a long look, pursing his lips. "He's the Daedric Prince of Madness. He's the definition of 'too far gone.'"

"He's  _what?"_ Demeus shrieked, eyes wide.

"Down," Shell said calmly, not even looking up from where she was buttering her potatoes. Demeus sat, staring at her. He barely twitched when the atronach zapped him, then whirled a bit, turning away.

"Sam, honey, and who are you? And where are you? And what is Muffin to you? If you can do this, and maintain this, how dare you assume Rommy  _can't_." Telki felt her eyes sting. Wonderful, on top of doubting Sams, she had to deal with mood swings.

"I'm telling you what he thinks, not what I think," Sam said with a shrug.

"And it's high time someone corrected that thinking," Telki stomped a foot definitively against the floor. "So, bean detection. Tonight? Since I'm goin' in the morning?"

Sam's eyes rolled over to Merc. "Want to give it a try, Muffin? All related things in the room glow— _hic!—_ different, pretty colors. Lot easier than dripping blood on a map. Useless, for this purpose, too." He sank a little further into his slouch with a bonelessness that in anyone else could not have been comfortable, maintaining it for all of three seconds before slithering under the table.

Regarding Sam with a dubious expression, Merc shook his head and cast the spell. Strangely enough, it wasn't a difficult spell, just one that didn't see a lot of use while fighting bandits or dragons. Green light flickered around one hand, gold around the other, until he brought them together and released them with a mental twist. Everyone looked eagerly at Telki's midsection, which glowed with a faint lavender light, flickering a bit as she moved like a little flame.

"So, who's sporting a lavender glow?" Telki was still watching her tummy.

"Um, Telki?" The raw emotion on Gideon's face as he took her hand, which she belatedly realized was glowing a darker hue, widened her eyes and made her breath catch. Wordlessly, she fell into his arms and they stood there, holding each other.

"Hey! Hey I'm glowing blue! I'm glowing blue!" Frankie's enthusiasm broke through the silence with welcome jubilance.

"You are? So'm I!" Lucia answered, more confused than enthused.

Taking her hand and bouncing, he asked, "Does that mean we're really  _really_  brother an' sister?"

"I guess so?" Lucia sounded bemused. They crowded up where the adults could see their matching glow, a deep royal blue. "Is that what this means? Or are we cousins or something?"

"No, the shades wouldn't match that perfectly for cousins," Merc said, wondering if this spell was always going to reveal unknown familial ties. At least the children's reveal wasn't as much of an emotional upheaval as his own had been.

Sofie squealed. "Look! Uncle Sam's blue, too!" She pointed, drawing everyone's gaze to where Sanguine looked out from under the table, face a mask of utter shock and glowing a distinctive blue, save for the vivid red of his eyes.

Merc, looking from the jubilant kids to the poleaxed Daedra, alarmed by the look on Sam's face. Hoping to bring back his lover's usual humor, he found a bit of mischief all his own. "Sam- _my_ , you has some 'splainin' to do." When Sam didn't react, Mercutio joined him under the table, pulling him into a hug, and rubbing his arms reassuringly. "Sam, hey, Sam. It's okay. It'll be okay, Sam?"

"I need a moment," the Daedra managed, then vanished completely in a burst of black light.

Mercutio's arms dropped, wondering if he'd just seen the last of him. He'd tried to make light of it, but thrusting fatherhood on the Daedra of Debauchery...Sam wasn't the only one needing a moment, suddenly. Mercutio stayed under the table, feeling sick and shocked as old anxieties and new overwhelmed him.

"So, are they daedra too?" Demeus gulped, examining Frankie and Lucia warily.

Telki tilted her head. "I never really Looked before. Lu? Frankie? Do you want me to?"

"Please!" The kids were understandably confused. While Frankie was only mildly concerned, patting his hair to check for horns, Lucia was fighting down outright panic. She knew how some people thought of daedra. Moreover, she'd seen time and again how people treated drunks and Sanguine's followers. Her time with Brenuin in Whiterun had demonstrated that keenly, and her own mother had lost herself in a bottle from time to time, never failing to scare Lucia but being full of apologies the next morning. She also liked how she looked, and didn't want to suddenly find her skin red and black.

Telki squinted, and shifted her Sight so her kids were surrounded by glowing music. "Okay, yes, there's something there, but it's not huge, and looks like it'd take some doing to even show." Telki came out of it and gave both of them a stern look. "This means you'll have to watch yourselves, though. Given Sam's auspice, you'll have to be more careful around things like mead and wine, and Lucia, it's very much time we had a Talk."

"Talk about what?" Sura whispered to Alesan, confused and wondering if Lucia was in trouble. Telki's eyes widened in horrific realization. "Okay, Sura, Lucia, this way."

"I have input," Shell reminded herself aloud, standing and hopping over the bench to follow. If anyone knew ways to not get pregnant, it was the daughter of a courtesan.

Telki's ears twitched. "Yes, please, Shell. I will need your help with this."

Standing from her spot beside Alesan, Sura gave him a puzzled look. "I think I'm supposed to hobble on my own this time," she said, grabbing the cane they had so helpfully gifted her with.

"I could take you, and then leave? She didn't say how you got there, so long as you got there," Alesan offered quietly, blushing to his roots.

"Oh, thank you," she smiled at him, finding herself strangely not looking forward to her ankle healing. For one thing, the boys were warm.

Smiling back just as widely, Alesan scooped her back up into his arms, and quickly followed Telki down the hall to the quieted room.

Gideon sighed. This sort of thing was usually Erandur's bailiwick, but it looked like he'd have his hands full with Mercutio. He sighed again and looked at the boys left with him. Alesan and Heron he already knew about, but the issue hadn't come up with Haffod (other than making vaguely threatening remarks about bothering Lucia early in his stay), and Demeus was a complete unknown. "So, do you know why Telki is having a talk with the girls?"

Haffod paled and nodded furiously, while Demeus turned so red he almost looked purple. "Of course!" he snapped.

Gideon raised an eyebrow at Demeus, but answered softly. "Demeus, Sura has no idea what Talk she's about to have. We don't know what you know, or what you've been through, if you don't share it with us."

Jaw clenched, the boy simply glared at him. "I know what they're talking about."

Erandur looked up from where he sat next to a subdued and quiet Mercutio, sensing something beneath the words. "I wonder, Demeus, if you and I need to have a different sort of talk."

"Why bother?" the boy asked coldly. "As soon as this mage shows up, I'm out of your hair."

Erandur shook his head. "It's not a talk to soothe my conscience, Demeus, but one to banish the demons chasing you."

Scoffing, he finally stated, "My mother was a whore. You really think I need a talk?"

"If anyone has treated you like a whore, then yes. And then I will need to go walkabout and make sure none of them are still breathing," Gideon told the boy flatly, his hammer suddenly in his hand and sparking.

"Focus on your demon children and leave me alone," he muttered.

Frankie gasped, his eyes watering. "Is that what I am? A demon?"

Lydia scooped him up, soothing him with hands and words. "No, you are not a demon, Demeus simply hasn't had enough home training to know the difference." Lydia's eyes shot dangerous sparks at the difficult boy. "Have you?" The words were laced with enough threat even the thickest head could catch a clue.

Eyeing the sniffling little boy, face a mask, Demeus finally said, "No," and strode around Gideon, heading for the door, grabbing his cloak and miraculously not slamming it behind him.

Gideon looked around, Erandur was busy with Merc, Lydia had Frankie, and Haffod was finally coming out of shock to help with the rest of the littles. He made a quick decision and followed Demeus out the door, hoping to catch the boy before he disappeared into the night.

"Demeus!" He called, catching him just before jumping the gate. His call caught the youth off-guard as he was starting his vault, and he crashed into the bars with a yelp.

"Easy lad." Gideon helped him down, checking him for injuries, a mild healing spell lighting his hands as he ran them over the youth. "Luckily, seems the only injuries might be to your pride, but since only I saw it, no harm there, either."

"Why do you care?" he asked, honestly bewildered, but still managing to fit more sarcasm than was warranted into the words.

Gideon studied him, weighing his words. "You're worth caring about, and it was high time someone showed you they wouldn't give up on you."

"Terrible idea," Demeus advised, face skeptical.

Gideon chuckled. "You think you're the first to tell me that? Doesn't change the fact I was right then, and I'm right now. You," Gideon poked the boy's chest, "are worth caring about. Nothing that has been done to you changes your worth."

Looking him up and down with a slightly troubled gaze, Demeus asked, "Are you talking about marrying Shell? Do you even know half the shit she's done? We studied her missions as an example. I supposed if you could get over that, you could get over anything."

Gideon folded his arms across his chest, considering the boy. "Did you choose your missions? Would you have chosen those missions for yourself, if you had the freedom of choice?" He let the boy mull that moment before dropping an even more chilling question for the boy to consider. "I wonder, what would you have been willing to do, to survive such a one as Ilmiyon?"

Demeus only shuddered, looking away.

"What I will judge her by, is what she chose to do the moment she was free. What did she do?" Gideon asked the boy.

"Apparently, started a spy network and took over a Thieves Guild," he said, sounding faintly admiring.

"And?" Gideon prompted.

"Uh…fell in with Daedra?" he guessed, screwing up his nose.

"Funny. She made sure all the Young Ones knew they had a choice now." Gideon wagged a finger at him, "And that, my friend, is what she should be judged on, and what you should be judged on. What you choose to do, under your own power. Now, how do you  _want_  to be judged? That is what you must decide, and what you must work towards."

"I don't care how people see me," he replied blandly, eyes taking on a chill that eclipsed the cold of Windhelm. "I only care about killing the people that made me that way."

Gideon thought that over, willing himself to relax and sound thoughtful. "You could do that. Though, to my way of thinking, that lets them off the hook rather easily."

"I learned soul trap," Demeus replied matter-of-factly.

Gideon snorted. "So, they sit in the dreary Soul Cairn, unaware of how much time has passed. I've been there you know."

"No, they sit in a soul gem until they're used. I won't. They can sit in there, conscious, until I decide to toss them in the ocean or something."

"Would that make you happy? And then what? What comes after your grand revenge?" When Demeus just gazed steadily at him, Gideon leaned against the fence, suddenly feeling very cold. "You mean to throw your life away on measly revenge?" Gideon shuttered his reaction to indifference, and scoffed. "I thought you smarter than that."

"I thought you Nords glorified throwing yourselves into a fight you can't win. Who knows? My father was apparently Nord, maybe I'll get into what's it called?" He shrugged, completely unbothered.

"Sovngarde."

"That's a mouthful," the boy heaved a deep breath, looking around, obviously wanting to be finished with this conversation.

"Demeus," Gideon took a moment to think through his words. "What if you could have your revenge,  _and_  a chance at actually living your life? Would that be worth pursuing?"

"If I actually saw a chance? Sure. What I see here are crazy cat ladies with mother complexes and at least two Daedra, and two followers of a trickster god. Not encouraging."

"Yet they took down Faloniril, the Son of Akatosh, stopped a Civil War, and are about to replace the Emperor. You know their history, you've read the files. How, then, can you dismiss the chance we are offering you? Hell, tell Ulfric your story, and he'd probably send out a squad to help you kill the motherless swine gladly."

"Starting with my own mother?" he asked, face creasing into a mocking grin as he leaned against the gate. "Doubtful. Doesn't seem like the type."

Gideon shook his head. "She abandoned you, and they take familial duty very seriously. Selling you into slavery? Worse, slavery to the Thalmor? That's worth a death sentence in Skyrim."

"Nice to know there is a more acceptable version of slavery than to the Thalmor," Demeus drawled.

"Ulfric puts Thalmor just a shade lower than Molag Bal worshippers."

"I hope I'm there when he finds out about Sanguine and Sheogorath, then."

"You missed it. It happened in the Soul Cairn, or so I'm told. I think he still gets twitches over playing father-in-law to the Prince of Madness." Gideon could not stop the snicker.

"Grand. I'm sure you can all go back to playing happy family without me," he nodded, opening the gate the normal way.

"Nope, with you? Maybe." Gideon gently closed the gate, and pulled the boy back. "No more running. You have a chance, right here, right now. You can have help, you can have acceptance, and your revenge. Why would you want to throw that away? I can tell you now, it does not hurt less to be the one doing the throwing."

His mouth opened to let out another snarky remark, then closed, looking away from the older man's earnest gaze. Finally, he sighed. "I'll think about it."

"Good lad, now, let's go inside, I've about lost feeling in my backside."

The Redguard shook his head. "I'd like to be alone a while."

"Alright, but if you're not in your bed come morning, I'll send out the search party. Shell will be on it." Gideon ruffled his hair. "She gets grumpy if she has to search before breakfast."

Demeus cracked a crooked smile that showed off a hint of what had gotten him made a Young One, blue eyes warming a bit with devilry. "Think she'd actually look?" he asked, a bit hopefully.

Gideon noticed the smile, and privately despaired if he ever showed it around Lucia. "Of course, and if you can't believe that, Telki would insist. Have you seen the kitty pout? Thalmor would kill for that sort of manipulative power." He waggled a finger at the boy. "And no smiling like that around Lucia. Poor girl wouldn't know which way to fall."

"I'll keep that in mind," Demeus said, backing up a little, then, before Gideon could stop him again, vaulted the gate, grabbed a bit of stonework and shimmied up a wall and onto the neighboring roof, disappearing from sight so quickly and soundlessly he might as well have been a cat.


	28. But Never Doubt My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaboooooooom!
> 
>  
> 
> Image provided by the incomparable Evil-Is-Relative

 

Nala laid her head back against tub, and then thumped it there a few times. What was she thinking? So what if he kissed her? Kissing did not mean 'I want you forever.' She'd had plenty of experiences to tell her that. Talon needing to leave the room, and spending the entire meeting wishing he were out the window made it patently clear where his affections were centered. He loved Fey, and probably always would. Sucked for both of them. They could open a pity party for two: He could rant about never getting the girl he wanted, and she could whine about the guy that would never want her.

She needed some wine. She leaned over the rim for the bottle, hand hovering over the glass to test the temperature. It'd had long enough to warm the spices by now, surely.

"Nala!" Water blew upwards as Sam materialized, all seven feet of him, on the other side of the tub, splashing suds and steaming water over the sides.

"What in Aurbis?" Nala sputtered, shoving sopping hair out of her eyes. "Oh, hi, Sam. Sensed the wine, did you?" Nala passed him the bottle. Honestly, he looked like he needed it more than she did, and that was saying something. "I thought you mostly sensed drunkenness, not the intent to get sloppy drunk."

Sam stopped, distracted momentarily from whatever he was thinking to stare at her. "Whoa. What happened to you? You're all…tingly. It's delightful."

"Ah, that's what you sensed. Figured. Yes, all revved up, but no place to go. Talon wouldn't care if I did the Seven Tails Dance in his lap." Nala grimaced, "Okay, yes, he might take advantage of it, but his affections are firmly with Fey. I do not want the 'make do' status, thank you. I do actually have some self respect left. Dwindling, but still there. Now," Nala narrowed her eyes at Sam, "why do you look like you just saw your own ghost?"

Sam splashed water on his face and scrubbed, grabbed the wine and downed it, then looked at her. "How do I look? Drunk? Off-kilter? Smashed?"

"Scared witless, actually." Nala sidled around, offering a shoulder for comfort, "What happened to you?"

"Whaaaaa!" he wailed, falling backwards. The edge of the tub was abruptly gone, the room around them fading into mist, though the water stayed the same temperature. Far off giggling and other sounds of revelry could be heard faintly, but it was mostly drowned out by the rustling of nearby ferns. "This isn't happening!" he cried, scrubbing his face in frustration as he floated on his back in the water.

Nala hastily covered her chest in the sudden absence of bubbles. "Sam, I am not an exhibitionist. Can we either go back to the bathroom, or give me some clothes?"

"Hey, I listened to you!" he whined, splashing petulantly. "I mean, you're wrong, but I listened!"

"Sam. I am asking you what happened, but I'd like to be able to pay attention, rather than worry about ogling eyes." Nala pulled her hair around her, sinking deeper into the water. "Very hard to offer comfort and advice when worried about death by embarrassment."

"No one's here but me and you," Sam groused, waving that worry aside. "I don't want my followers knowing about this. I mean, what do you do with them? All mortals are so breakable, and they're doubly breakable! And what about influences? I'm not the best one. I mean, better me than Bal, but I have no idea what I'm doing. I can't just forget now! Kinda wish I could, but I can't!" he turned black, beseeching eyes her way, rolling in the water to face her.

"Sam. What's happened?" Nala pulled him over again, giving him a shoulder to cry on, if needed. Really, she wondered how Telki could do this so effortlessly, and why did Sam decide to use her as his confidant, and why, for the love of Mara, always in the tub?

He wiggled away like a ferret and took her by the shoulders, shaking her as he cried, panicked, "I didn't even know I could have children! Leastwise not with mortals!"

"Wait, Sam, you have kids?" Nala took a minute to absorb that information, his panic and rambling starting to piece together. "Oh you poor soul. Okay, can you catch your breath for me? And I like my teeth in my head, not shaken out on the floor."

"Breathe? Breathing," he said, taking a deep one. "Now what?"

"Okay, firstly, kids. How many, and who? Are they safe? Do they have families already?" Nala waited between each question. "We'll take it item by item, until you can think about it without a panic attack. Okay?"

"Two," he said, then flopped down into the water. "What the fuck is the Daedra of Debauchery supposed to do with two kids?"

Nala pulled her hair around, twisting some of the water out as she thought. "Second and third question: who, and are they safe? If they're safe, there's not much you need to do, really. If they aren't, then we can talk about your responsibilities. Leaving them with a loving family may be all you need to do." No need to bring up the numerous deadbeat parents amongst his followers. His behavior told her he really didn't need that right now.

"But it's not," he said glumly, looking lost. "I'll see them every time I visit Mercutio."

Nala's brows beetled. "You never call him Mercutio. Wait, did you just find out some of Telki's adoptees are actually yours, and lit out of there in a panic?" She stared at him, then rubbed her brow. "Oh boy."

"What do I dooo?" he wailed, splashing water as his hands flailed, "What if they all want me to do that father thing? I don't do the father thing! I'm not even much into the daddy thing, to be completely honest."

"Honey, you need to be talking to them, not me." Nala took both of his hands, and used as soft a voice as she could, "I'm no expert. Everyone with any parental know-how is back at the place you left, and Mercutio is probably worried sick. You need to be there, talking with them, if you think you can now."

"Muffin's sweet like that," he agreed, then waded over to the side to sink onto something chairlike under the surface of the water. He patted a few bubbles to death and said softly. "I can't get drunk. Skooma isn't even working. I just…stay sober."

"You're worried and scared," Nala observed, "and if I don't miss my guess, I don't think you'll get inebriated again until you deal with this one way or another." The groan that elicited was positively heart wrenching. "Seriously, Sam, go talk to them," Nala pushed on his shoulder. "They'll be able to do more for your worries than I can. Promise."

"I…think I'll just bring Muffin here for a bit, first," he said, looking nervous. "I don't want little Frankie bouncing up asking if I'm going to take him fishing or something."

"Yes, talk to your Muffin." Nala noticed Sam's slip, but didn't mention it. Frankie was his? Wonder of wonders. Who'd have thought that sweet aedric-like angel was Sanguine's? She worried her lip. She hoped Sam puffing off like that wasn't going to Be A Thing. Some guys did not respond well to that sort of thing.

Looking pensive, he sighed, then really looked at her, eyes flicking up and down as if he could see right through the water. The edges of his lips curled up sardonically. "In the meantime," he gave her a sly look, "I can help you with your problem. One of them, anyway."

Nala groaned, sinking back down in the water. "No, let's go back to talking about yours. I'd nearly forgotten I even had a problem."

"But I like your problem. You're lit up like a New Life tree and it's all that's keeping me even slightly buzzed right now," he revealed. Normally he'd be moving to help her out with it himself, but he had a lot on his mind right now, and a deal to win.

"So glad my angst is benefitting someone," Nala grumbled.

"Here," he said, dipping a goblet formed from thin, misty air into the water and holding it out to her. "Drink this."

Nala raised an eyebrow at Sam. "You do know what I was told about accepting drinks from you, right? I want it noted that this is a big leap of faith here on my part." Nala took the cup, watched it dubiously for a moment, and then drank. The bubbles frothing in the liquid did not fill her with confidence.

The world lurched, and Nala found herself back in her bathtub, feeling drunk as ever she saw Sanguine, to the point she couldn't even feel her legs, but hot and bothered enough to melt High Hrothgar. "Shhhhhham! How ish thish helpin'?" she bellow-slurred.

"Well, it's making me feel better," he said, standing and admiring her from the other end of the tub, armor back on and smirk in place.

"No' nishe." Nala felt herself sniffing. She hated being a maudlin drunk. One reason she only drank in the tub was that it was so much easier to hide the tears. "I tried to he'p you, no' trick you."

"That's good. Keep crying and looking all cute and sad. Just stay right there," he said, making a box out of his fingers as if to size up a portrait of the scene. "Not that you can move all that well," he added, then vanished.

Nala sunk down in the water, still sniffling, turning around on him. "Oh go 'way. You're jus' teasin' me now." She was not going to thank him for the lack of nausea, not when she felt if she didn't ride something soon, she'd explode. "No' nice teasin', and trickin' and invading my bath, and then taking my bath to there! Why?" Nala got no answer, and so she let the tears fall. There wasn't anyone to see, anyway.

.

* * *

 

.

"Talon!"

The mer nearly slipped off the roof as Sanguine appeared next to him, overbalanced, and clung onto a chimney. The Daedra pouted at him as he lifted an eyebrow. Something about a massive Dremora clutching a chimney pot shaped like a rabbit appealed to his oft-hidden sense of humor. "Yes, Sanguine?"

"I need some help," he admitted.

"From me?" Talon asked skeptically.

"Weeelll," Sam drawled, looking down at the street and noting that it was an awfully long way down, and he'd make a pretty big crater in all the pretty cobblestones if he fell. "It's Nala."

He frowned, heart thumping just a little harder as his face assumed his habitual mask. "What of her?" There was no way in Oblivion he was having another rooftop conversation about Nala, especially with the Daedric Prince of Debauchery. That was almost as bad as having one with Blythe.

"She has a bad habit of having a glass of wine in the bath. I want in her robes, so I may have souped it a little. Now I can't get her out of the bath, because fireballs, and I'm a bit afraid she might drown. Do get her out for me, won't you?" he asked, fluttering his eyelashes even as he vanished.

Staring blankly at the spot Sam had been for a moment, Talon's mind finally processed this and he cursed, moving across the rooftops with an ease that would have appalled the local Thieves Guild. By the time he reached Mittens' home it was well into night, and he hoped that idiotic drunkard hadn't gotten her killed. Slipping in through a second floor window, he listened, detecting the slight sound of water splashing somewhere down the hall.

Finally stopping outside the door, he knocked faintly. "Nala?" he called.

"Go 'way!"

Well, she hadn't drowned, at least. He sighed, resting his forehead against the door, several warring impulses making him hesitate. "Nala, how drunk are you?"

"T-talon? No, can' be. You know how drunk you made me, no more teasin'!"

Puzzled, he spent a long moment trying to make sense of that before giving up. "Nala, I can feel the heat in that room through the door. You're going to pass out."

"Fash' pashin' the poin' I ash'ly care." The sound that followed was caught between a cry and a chuckle.

"Are you crying?" he asked, both astounded and growing steadily angrier with Sanguine. His own unchecked expression glared back at him from the polished wood of the door, vague and blurry.

"Nope," she sobbed.

Muttering something uncharitable in Aldmeris, he called, "I'm coming in, Nala."

"No! I'm nekkid n' you've don' 'nuf!"

"By the time I get back with one of your sisters you could be unconscious in there," he pointed out.

"So?"

Annoyed, he turned the knob, found it locked, picked it in a few deft movements, and opened the door. Steam wafted out into the hall, coating the floor with a layer of condensation. It seemed she had forgotten to mind her fire rune, or else was so far passed caring she'd simply let the room turn into a sauna. It took him a moment to get his bearings, noting that most of the room seemed to be cabinets surrounding a massive porcelain tub that wouldn't look out of place in a palace. Nala sat at the other end looking absurdly small, mostly covered with bubbles and her own long hair but with a flush clinging to her skin that made him avert his eyes hastily, feeling as if he were intruding.

"Nooo!" Nala sniffled and gasped, "No fair! Wearin' his face like that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, relief and puzzlement making him slightly peevish as he searched around for a towel, doing his best not to stare, or even look her way overmuch.

"Aren' you s'posed to be havin' a talk with your Muffin inshead of messin' wi' me?"

He halted, unable to stop his eyes from locking on hers incredulously, "You think I'm Sanguine?" he asked, feeling insulted.

Nala snorted, "Why wou'd Talon be here? In my baf? Makes no shenshe."

Lifting one hand to rub his brow, he cast his eyes about for a towel again, finally locating one near the tub itself. "Can you stand?" he asked, striding over quickly and ready to cast a ward if she decided that some fireballs were in order.

"A'fer you gave me a spiked d'ink? Nope. No legs, they're gone."

"Immortality aside, I'm going to strangle him," Talon grumbled, mind turning over the problem at hand and being completely unhelpful with other input. He'd noticed she had a habit of nibbling her lips when troubled by her thoughts. She must have been thinking a great deal since he'd last seen her; her normal pink had darkened to a rosier hue, slightly swollen with pressure.

At least, he hoped she'd done that to herself. If Sanguine had kissed her, he might shoot a few fireballs at him himself.

Nala's eyes crossed. "Wha'? Bu' ? Nope. You have to be Sanguine, 'cause if you're really really Talon, then I'll really really have to pull in a dim'sel po'ket a'fer me."

"Nice to know you lose all sense when inebriated," he said dryly, finally crouching next to the tub to get a good look at her condition, reaching out carefully to lift a sodden lock of hair from her face. Her sapphire eyes were red with crying and drink, nose and cheeks flushed, and hair in complete disarray. He wondered if Telki would actually cast that everfill spell of Sober Mead on Sam's cup after this. He planned on suggesting it.

"S'why I don' d'ink much. Don' like loosin' m'sense." Nala gave him a woebegone look.

Gentling his voice, he said calmly. "I'm going to help you out of the tub now, alright?"

"No funny stuff!" Nala waved a directionally challenged finger at him. "P'omise."

"No funny stuff," he promised, taking her hands lightly and wrapping them around his neck so he could lift her out.

"'Kay." Nala got a good whiff of his neck. "Oh no fair! You e'en shmell righ'. How'm I s'posed to fireball you now?"

"I'm not going to answer that," he shook his head, reaching down and hooking an arm under her knees, lifting her from the tub and setting her against the rim, pulling the towel around her before he picked her up again. She was still soaking wet, but it preserved a little modesty, at least.

"Well, it wash on'y if you broke you' p'omise 'nyhow," she grumbled, trying to assist, but mostly lolling like a ragdoll.

"Please tell me you picked a room here?" he sighed, ignoring her squirming as best he could. The towel had not been all that secure to begin with.

"Ri' 'cross hall." She flopped an arm in the general direction.

"Good," Talon replied with distinct relief. "Please stop moving about so much."

"Room h's shtop, fi'st." Nala pursed her lips, and tried again. "Room. Stop. I. Stop."

"Grand," he said, putting down her legs to open the door so that she was supported mostly by being pressed along his side. His clothing was almost as soaked as she was, and without the heat of the bath, it was getting distinctly chilly. He tried to focus on that.

"Cold now," Nala's teeth started chattering.

"You had the bath hot enough to cook crustaceans, I'm not surprised," he told her, casting a magelight before picking her up again.

"R-r-r-rune?" Nala burrowed into him as best she could, stealing his bodyheat. Kind as he was being, she could almost believe it was Talon. Which meant she would have to throw herself into Red Mountain from shame.

"A moment," he said, setting her on a wooden chair that wouldn't soak up water like upholstery, then considering the room a moment. He placed a rune on the wall above the bed, then on the footboard, and one just under her chair, radiating heat upwards. Leaving just long enough to grab a second towel from the bathroom, he placed it lightly around her shoulders just before the first towel slipped, trying to wring some of the water out of her hair. She was mostly quiet through this, except for the occasional sniffle. He'd met a few weepy drunks in his time, but none that had been tricked into drinking by the Prince of Excess. Smiling grimly, he hoped it had come as nasty a surprise to Sam as it had to him.

Once assured her hair wouldn't soak the bed and leave her chilled, Talon lifted one of her arms over his shoulders, pulling her up and helping her into the surprisingly luxurious bed, glad he had taken the time to inspect them earlier. Once she was safely covered with sheets, he gently rolled her out of the towels, reminded of a careless housecat by the way she simply flopped out of them. He shook his head slightly as she curled up, facing away from him, the last handspan or so of tail restlessly curling and uncurling. "Hopefully he has enough remorse to spare you a hangover," he told her, folding the heavier blanket over the sheets and around her, his fingers grazing the curve of her shoulder and finding her skin still warm to the touch.

"Why?" Nala asked with a jaw cracking yawn, finally warm under her covers, confused by the tender caress. Her heart wanted to jump because Talon, but if it was really Sanguine, she'd need right back in the bath.

He'd been turning to leave, but the bereft tone of her voice halted him. "Why, what?" he inquired. If she really thought he'd leave her drunk in the bathtub he would need to seriously reconsider their past interactions to find where she would have gotten that impression.

"Why can't Talon love me back?"

He froze, heart thudding. After a moment to get his mind working again, he swallowed the tightness in his throat and asked, "Is that why you were crying?"

The whisper was so quiet, even his ears had to strain for it. "You know it is."

"Nala," he said, turning after a moment of hesitation to go sit next to the bed, staring at her pensively. He wasn't quite sure what to say. Everything felt inadequate.

"'S m' own faul', ruinin' it, y'know. I don' t'ink even Mara coul' fix it, much less you." Even half asleep, her voice sounded small and lost.

"Ruin what?" he asked, reaching out and tucking some of the errant strands he could see sliding over her face to they were secured by her ear. Nala's traitorous heart kicked up a notch.

"Stupid mouth runnin' off 'bout stupid portals, firs' 'mp'essions nev' go 'way. I sounded li' I'd trade favors f' magic. Who wants someone li' tha'?"

His brow creased as he searched for words, bothered by the way she was curling in on herself, her ears flattened and her tail wrapped about her, as if for comfort. "I don't think less of you for pursuing your passions, Nala. I'd only judge you if others were hurt by your doing so."

"Don' matter. I saw at th' meetin', no room f' me."

"What?" he asked, completely lost at this point.

"Fey."

Actually twitching in surprise, he felt quite as if she'd doused him in ice water. "What about her?" he asked, mouth dry.

Nala whined from under the covers. "A'ready told you. Why a'g'n?" A heavy sigh followed, her voice getting crisp as it could. "He loves her, will probably always love her, and there's no room for me. Not if the way he disappeared from right behind me is anything to go by." She pulled the covers tight around her, rolling into a small ball, and got very still. Now she was not only sad, but mad, and still very very turned on. Sleep would be a while claiming her. He couldn't hear tears falling, could he?

He sighed, then turned and settled against the bed, staring out into the dark room as the magelight spell ran out and dimmed until only the faint street and starlight from the window filled the room. "When I was younger," he said haltingly, knowing she wasn't quite asleep, but unsure if she'd remember any of this. He couldn't even say for certain if he wanted her to remember. "When I was much, much younger, I fell in love for the first time," he said, thinking back on those years with a sort of distant pain. "She was another Young One, neither of us Named, but we were a team. We worked well together. The lord that raised us, he wasn't against the Young Ones pairing off and having relationships. He saw us all as misguided Altmer rather than half breeds, and as long as none of us actually had children without permission, he was fine with it. Serve the cause, whatever it took. She went out on a solo mission and never returned."

Talon rubbed his head, soothing an ache away with a momentary glow of Healing that gilded the room briefly. "I thought I'd never love again. Of course, that was foolish of me. I'm more than half elf, and always took after the elven side. It took another few decades, but I fell again. She was human, and I met her on a mission. She never knew what I was, and since it was an information-gather that could take years, I thought, maybe I could stay there. Just for a while. I could request it as a boon. But she was human," he repeated, closing his eyes. "They took that a bit more strongly than having a relationship with another Young One. Once she was no longer vital to my mission, I came back to the house we had been sharing to find her dead. Executed, because of me."

Pausing again, he licked his lips to get some moisture, unused to speaking so much at once, and especially about himself. "I wasn't even a century old yet," he added softly. "I promised myself then, that if I ever met another woman I could care for, I would leave her alone. I wouldn't do that to her. Sixty years later, the War broke out, and I was given to Lord Faloniril. There were a few lords that Young Ones prayed never to enter into the service of. He was one. He would pit his own Young Ones against each other once they'd grown. Literally no one could be trusted.

"Then I met Fey. Faloniril's daughter, for Auriel's sake, and she tried to befriend me. I couldn't trust it, not then. It would be years before I learned that she was genuine, and by then it was far too late. I admire her, I pined for her, and I knew I could never have her. I watched her fall in love, mourn as she thought she lost her first child to her brother, caused her false grief over the culling of her second, and finally got the courage to help them escape when I saw they were actually going to try. Now, she's happy. Her children are happy, and it brings me more joy than I can tell you to see them that way. It also brings me pain, but I've…I've found that lessening. I realized it this afternoon. I don't feel the same pain I used to. I regret turning her away, but not for the same reasons. When I realized that, I had to think, and I think best away from others."

"Talon?" Nala's brain felt it was caught in a whirlwind, and took her feelings along for the ride.

He allowed himself a small smile that she wasn't even pretending to sleep anymore. "Yes?"

"M'sorry you went through all that. Y' know I'd fix it, if I could. Stay?" A hand fumbled out of the covers reaching for his. "No funny stuff, just… Stay?"

He turned when her hand found his shoulder, the back of it brushing against his cheek as he regarded her. It was too dim to tell if the flush had faded from her skin, though he'd seen her shift and the changes in her breathing when he'd touched her. Considering everything, he wasn't as certain as she was nothing would happen if he joined her. "My clothes are still wet," he said after a moment, "Give me a moment to change and I'll be back."

"Promise?" There was no hiding the hope in that one word.

Reaching up to grab her hand, he gave it a small squeeze. "I promise."

"'Kay, I'll be here. Need talk t'you." Her voice mumbled off into a sleepy half purr.

Standing, he tucked her hand back with the other, heading back to the room she had chosen earlier for the muffle enchantments carven into the walls. He hadn't had a chance to remove the clothing he'd placed there yet. Closing the door against more Sanguine problems—though this time from the possibility of one of his followers—he laid his clothing out to dry and selected a simple tunic and trews meant for sleeping, asking himself all the while if he really knew what he was getting himself into. Worse, wondering if she did, and if they should really go forward with this at all. One thing was certain; they should at least talk about it.

He returned only minutes after he had left, closing the door quietly behind him and gazing about the room, making a face and opening the door again to let their host's cat back out. Nala stirred slightly in the light from the hallway, and he paused, unsure. "Where do you want me?" he finally settled on asking.

"Where wou' you be comfy n' not run 'way?"

"I just spent the better part of the evening sitting on uneven roof tiles. Anywhere is adequate," he said, reaching up and, after a moment of hesitation, removing the ties to his hair. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep tonight, but it was always more difficult with his hair tied back.

"'S'not wha' I asked….oh, I'm in trouble." Nala had peeked out to glare at the self sacrificing toots, but was sidetracked by the glorious freed curls. They really were unfairly pretty.

Blinking a moment, he gave her a droll look, "You really do have the most unusual preoccupations," he said, taking in the way her wide eyes glowed like twin candlelight spells.

Nala snorted, "Look you, I jus' f'gured ou' you're you n' not Sam pulling a stunt af'er spiking me with hinky hoodoo hooch, n' you are stoope…stooped, too pretty!"

A quick bark of laughter escaped him, and he finally came over, shaking his head at her in amusement. "Whatever 'hinky hoodoo hooch' is, I shall endeavor to keep you from it evermore," he assured her.

"Please?" Big pleading eyes regarded him from her blanketcave.

"At this rate, I'm inclined to warn everyone off giving you alcohol at all," he said firmly, looking around for a somewhat comfortable chair or bench to pull beside the bed.

Nala huffed." 'S too cold. Come to bed." Nala patted the mattress, "You c'n wrap up in the extra blanket, 'f you're worried." Bright blue eyes crinkled at him. "Wo' say no to th' extra body heat, though."

Considering this a moment, he finally sat on the bed—still wondering if this was a terrible idea or not—and moved around her to the headboard, finding the extra blanket folded at the foot and drawing it lightly over himself without getting under the rest of the covers. It took him a moment to recall the last time he'd been in bed with a woman, then he shook the memory away. Nothing good would come of thinking of that now. "What did you want to speak of?" he asked her, watching the luminescent blue wax and wane as she narrowed or widened her eyes.

"Ever'thing." She reclaimed Talon's hand, her hand now, drawing it to her and practically curling around it.

"Why are you crying again?" he asked, reaching out with the other hand and gently brushing the tears he could smell were coursing down her face. It had been a few months since he'd scented saltwater. It was not how he expected to encounter it again.

"'Cause I'm lose you anyhow." Nala squeezed his arm tighter, as if she could change things by sheer force of will. "So, nuffen' as trau-taraum- bad as wha' you went through, but no luck wif partners. Bad, ended very bad. E'en tried the cas-sasu one night thingies. Worse. So, gave up. All done. No more for Nala. But…um…well…Still wanted someone. Sam said he'd he'p, f' a price. What've I got to lose? 'S'not happ'ning anyhow, right? But then you! N' now you won't want me."

"You made a deal with Sanguine?" he said flatly, not quite sure he'd heard correctly.

"A night of scrying free days af'er I finally ge' married," Nala sniffed, "No' comple'ely daf'."

Slightly dumbfounded, his face cleared as realization struck, "You didn't know who he was."

"Nope," she snorted "but does it really make it be'er I was willing to make a deal wif an obbi- obvi- really powerful Sanguinist?"

"That…" he shook his head slightly, a soft, angry sound his only real show of temper, "That's a problem for a later date."

"Sorry." She curled tighter around his arm, threatening circulation. The heat coiling in her belly was very aware his hand was so close, as much of herself as she'd wrapped around his arm. The frustrated squeak was not her fault, never mind the wiggling to get comfortable. It was all Sam's fault, anyway.

Talon took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment and willing himself not to move. "Nala," he managed after a few moments, opening his eyes, "I need to ask you something."

"Well, drunk as I am, you're bound t' get an uncen-uncensense… a bald answer."

His expression was very serious in the faint light, "What do you want of me?"

Nala didn't quite stifle the surprised squeak and froze solid as his question rattled around her brainpan for a bit.

"I know you want me physically, and at this point I am quite willing to give you that," he said, eyes locked on hers. "Beyond that? I cannot promise you much. I will stay by you for as long as we desire each other's company. The danger becoming my lover would put you in is neither greater nor lesser than simply being the sister of the Dragonborn. You are a target either way, and you may actually be safer with me. I cannot promise you marriage, but I can offer companionship, for now."

"I need a ques'ion answered m'se'f. Is that all you thin' it'll ever be?" Nala could feel the hot tears rising behind her eyelids, again. Anger, humiliation, and stupid loss rising in a panic in the back of her mind. It was a wonderful cocktail for burning off inebriation, but hell on her emotions. "Cause if it's just a 'getting to know' each other caution, sure, I can handle that. If it's a chance for more, I can do it, but if I'm just a stopgap? No. I want the long haul. I want a partner for tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow.

"I want burnt breakfast mornings and moonlit walks, and a partner to sit on the porch with when I'm too old to cast candlelight anymore. I'm tired of being someone's momentary whatever-the-hell. I want a partner." She slowly released his hand when he didn't answer, and rolled over, balled up once again.

"Nala," he said, a bit of anger creeping into his own voice, "I don't do 'momentary whatever-the-hell.'"

She flipped back around, mouth gaping and panting. "But you just said...!"

"Because I am quite willing to start pining over you," he revealed.

Nala cocked her head at him, uncertain she'd heard him correctly. Her brows drew down. "Screw pining, I think we've both pined long enough." She launched herself at him, grabbing double handfuls of that lovely, lovely curling mass and kissing him with all her heart. It was every bit as amazing as she remembered.

Talon's arms came up immediately, holding her tightly as he brushed her hair back from her face, taking the opportunity to see if she actually did have that sensitivity problem. Arms and legs latched tight around him, and Nala practically warbled her need against his mouth. He gave a soft, deep chuckle that sounded faintly sinister, repeating the action.

Nala keened, tightening her grip on Talon, but decided returning fire would be more fun, and kissed her way over to his own ear, licking it from lobe to tip, scraping her teeth lightly at the apex. He moaned lightly, surprised, his hand pressing her lower back more firmly against him, grinding slightly against her.

Nala had to let his ear go, because she was pretty much ready for the main event before Talon even came in the bathroom. Right now, just the slight friction was causing stars, or maybe those were actual fairy lights, all she knew for certain was she needed more. She circled her hips restlessly against him, seeking more heat, more friction, more Talon.

"Too many clothes," she managed to gasp out, "Need you, now."

His lips curled into a smile against her skin, pressing her back to the bed as he dragged them lightly back to her mouth, claiming it again. Nala had no problem with this, and greedily sucked his tongue into her own mouth, savoring the taste of him. Enjoying the feel of her writhing against him immensely, he pulled away, gazing down into her eyes. "Not quite yet," he said, running a hand lightly down her arm.

"Whyyy?"

Moving slightly to her side so that she was pressed against him, he trailed his hand down her stomach, brushing over her inner thigh. "Because this is Sanguine. I want you to writhe for me," he informed her huskily.

"Got a cure poison on you?" she asked, breath catching a bit as his fingers grazed just beside where she wanted them on their way down.

"I have a simpler idea," Talon revealed, gliding the hand back upwards until he reached her core, then languidly slid a finger inside her.

"Oh sweet mercies please!" Nala jackknifed against him, the sudden intrusion pleasant but unexpected. She shuddered against him, hot and cold at the same time. He bent and kissed her again, slowly working that single finger in and out of her body, resisting any efforts she made to speed him up.

Nala was sure this must be some evil revenge scheme of Talon's. No matter how she bucked, whined, or wheedled, he kept the same pace. It was driving her straight to the Shivering Isles, she was sure of it. Which wasn't too terrible, possibly. Apparently, she knew the guy running it.

Not relenting at all, Talon kissed a light trail from her collarbone to her jaw. "Nala, look at me," he said calmly.

Her head whipped toward his, color high and panting. Her eyes were so dilated, they'd be lost in the dark if not for their shine.

"Come," he told her firmly, twisting his finger inside her. Nala gasped just before the wave of release flooded through her, pulling a surprisingly loud orgasm out of her. He kissed her gently as she came down, then nibbled on her lower lip before moving to her ears. "How do you feel?"

"Surprisingly floaty and relaxed." She hummed as he continued his attentions to her ears. "And quickly thinking a round two is in order."

"Good," he replied, leaning back long enough to divest himself of his shirt. "Now," he pulled her up so she was sitting with him. "I'm going to teach you a spell."

"Now?" Nala was rather busy admiring the clean expanse of statue-perfect chest in front of her. "You expect me to cast in this state?" Her fingers started exploring without any input from her, tracing a faint scar across one otherwise perfect pectoral.

His breath hitched slightly, and he lifted the hand from his chest to kiss her palm, then each of her fingertips. "I enjoy watching you cast," he said, "but for now, you can simply watch."

"I like watching you. You move like magic, all flowy and graceful." Nala waved at him. "It's beautiful."

Smiling at her a moment, he lifted his other hand, a small sphere of incandescent Restoration forming on his palm, slight, misty corona surrounding it. "Can you tell what this does?" he asked, eyes glowing in the golden light.

Nala studied it a moment, eyes narrowing as she tried picking apart its form and function, distracted, as always, by a magical puzzle. "It's a modified heal other spell, but…subtle, very subtle shifts in…Talon, what did you do to this spell? It's changed, but I can't quite make it out."

"I'll show you," he promised, closing his hand over it. Rather than extinguishing, the misty light clung to his palm as if he'd coated it in foxfire. Reaching out, he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, leaving a warmth behind, as if he still touched it even as he moved his hand away. Lifting the hand he still held, he drew curving, curling patterns in light over the underside of her wrist, moving slowly up her arm.

"Oh sweet mother of mercy," Nala stared at the glowing swirls patterning her wrist, the skin just above his hand already tingling in anticipation.

He gave her a warm look, "You did say you liked my drawings," he reminded her, painted fingers still making their way up her arm, before jumping to her chest, just below her collarbone. Featherlight caresses crossed from one shoulder to the other, then down around her breasts, circling each in fanciful patterns until he reached the peaks, where he lifted his hand and painted his own lips before drawing them in, catching her when she bowed backwards sharply, holding him to her. He lowered her back down before raising his head to study her expression, leaving the sensation of his lips and tongue behind.

Nala was in sensory overload heaven. All she could do was lay there and shudder with reaction. She watched his face, taking in the play of emotions, including the rather evil satisfaction. A shaky hand reached up and looped itself in his glorious beautiful hair. She hauled him down to her face where she proceeded to kiss the breath out of him. While he was occupied with the kiss, she wrapped a leg around him, and then rolled them both over. She grinned down at him from her new perch, rolling experimentally over his trew covered legs. The friction was nice, but not quite what she wanted. Talon gasped slightly and grabbed her hips, simply following her movements, but not stopping her.

"So, shall I show you something?" Nala's grin was wide and wicked. "After all, we were encouraged to experiment in college." Interest flickered across his face as he watched her with hooded eyes.

Both of her hands glowed with heat. "Friend of mine was very good at massage, but Skyrim's cold, and her hands were always cold. So, just like I modified the bolt, I modified flaming hands. Care to try them?" She backed off his legs, drawing his loose sleeping pants with her. Her heart raced when she finally laid eyes on what she'd revealed, marveling that she had such an effect on him. Taking a deep breath, she climbed back over him, pretending to ignore the part of him silently begging attention, and rolled her palms over the taunt shoulder muscles. "Good grief! When was the last time these got attention?"

"You bit one earlier, if that counts," he replied, amused, hands still trailing idly up and down her thighs.

"It needs more attention, then." Nala pretended to tsk in disappointment and concentrated on her task, rolling and massaging each muscle in his shoulders until they relaxed completely, before moving to the next muscle group, studiously not thinking about how much she wanted something else. If he could be damnably patient, so could she.

Simply watching her, letting her take the lead, he smiled slightly. She had the tip of her tongue peeking out as she concentrated, which he found strangely endearing. Each movement swept her long hair over his chest, each brush of the silken strands growing more erotic as she moved, the soft skin of her stomach grazing against his straining flesh with every subtle shift of her weight.

"I need to roll you over. If your shoulders are this tense, I don't want to think about the state of your back."

Reaching up and lightly caressing the side of her breast before cupping her jaw, he looked up at her with laughing eyes. "I'm not going to be laying on my front anytime soon, Nala," he said.

The sight of that open smile caught her breath in her chest a moment, "Oh, well, then, maybe I should fix that." Nala kissed him quickly, and wriggled down to attend his 'problem.' "Oh yes, definitely a lot of tension here. Let's see if I can massage that out for you." She marveled she kept her voice as level as she did, and upped the heat in her hands, just a touch.

She wrapped her hands around him, and stroked the silky skin in long smooth strokes, methodically, evenly, and just as slow and steady as his earlier had been. Talon let out a shuddering breath with the first touch, head falling back and back arching slightly. He wasn't hiding any of his responses from her, and Nala never felt so powerful in her life. She worked him steadily until she noticed his restless shifting, the quiet gasps for breath, and she pitched her voice just so, soft, sultry, and compelling. "Talon, come for me, love."

Gasping her name, he came, reaching down to grab one of her hands as the thick liquid pooled on his abdomen a moment before his mind came back enough to do anything but lay there, panting. Nala cuddled into his side, flicking a quick cleansing spell to disappear the mess on him and her hands. Once clean, she grabbed him and kissed him. "I love you, y'know." The words were out before she realized she was about to say them, and she bit her lip lightly, reminding herself that she'd already bared her hopes to him.

One hand soothing up and down her back, holding her close, he murmured against her lips, "I surmised, mellani."

She smiled back at him, happiness brimming brightly in her gaze, and wrapped doublehandfuls of his hair to pull his face to hers for a long lovely kiss. She hoped he'd be ready for a round three soonish, because she really needed all of him touching all of her. Nala hooked a leg around him, cuddling close and running her hands everywhere she'd imagined touching him. That was a lot of ground to cover, and some needed a second pass to make sure it was properly mapped.

He chuckled, something occurring to him. "Nala, how would you feel about taking this back across the hall?" he murmured, nibbling along the column of her neck.

"Alright, alright, bath then, but there better be cuddles and warm and nibbles and lots of you." She made to sit up and wobbled. "And carry me. I think you put my legs out of order already."

"I'd have it no other way," he said smugly, flicking a spark of Restoration at her that lit up every curling line he'd traced on her body earlier at once.

She stopped breathing altogether for a long moment, coming back to sense laying beside him with her entire body tingling. "Did you know your aura had purple sparkles in it?" she said inanely, the first thing that popped into her mind, "Why does it have purple sparkles?"

"No idea, mellani," he said, sliding from the bed as he drew her to him, swinging her into his arms. "But I thought I should warn you," he added, "I also know the stamina spells."

"I'm going to die, but I'm going to die happy and satisfied." She laid her head on his shoulder, breathing his scent in deeply. "Do you use some magical, alchemical mix? I'm getting bothered just smelling you!"

"I appreciate soap, but I believe I only have that effect on you," he told her.

"What? You mean to tell me in all this time, I'm the only female to look at you with googly smitten eyes? I don't believe it for a moment."

"You don't have 'googly' eyes, Nala," he said, brushing his lips along her forehead. "Your eyes are the most beautiful I've ever seen. I've seen them every time I closed my own eyes nearly since I met you." The dazzling smile she gave him was more than he could ever have hoped for, and he lifted her face for another kiss. It was a long time before either of them got any rest.


	29. Good company, Good wine...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of talking, reassuring, and water vapor, really.
> 
>  

Once Gideon returned, Lydia turned kidsitting over to him, which mostly covered bed prep this late at night. She heard him marshalling troops for teethbrushing as she joined Erandur on the floor next to Mercutio, who still hadn't moved or even spoken under the table, though Erandur had tried numerous times.

Lydia worriedly brushed his hair back from his face, somewhat relieved when he turned to her palm. She cradled his face, at least it was something. Sam, if he ever dared show back up, was going to not only get an earful, but probably a shield and sword full. She needed a new pell anyways.

"Merc, Love, we're here, you're not alone."

"He left."

"Yes, he said he needed a moment."

"How could he leave?"

"I don't know, Love, but I'm still here, Erandur's still here, Gideon, and Telki are still here, too. You're not alone." She idly wondered if Daedra could bruise. She'd certainly give it her best effort.

"I feel like a fool, like she was right all this time."

"Oh, Mercutio, no." Anger and sadness welled in her at hearing the old fears resurfacing. She had hoped they'd gotten him passed this, and his returning to these doubts had been one of her biggest fears when she heard he was being pursued by Sanguine.

If he didn't bruise, it wouldn't be for her lack of effort.

"Who am I to think I'm enough to keep Sam's interest, and then kids? How could he? I thought…" Merc's eyes closed, and she watched him swallow all the things he wanted to say back down. That was worse than him voicing them; they'd chase each other around his head until he was thoroughly depressed. "Doesn't matter, does it? Not really. Are Lucia and Frankie okay?"

"Confused more than anything. Gideon's got Frankie and the others washing up for bedtime. Telki's having a talk with Lucia and Sura." Lydia studied his face, still worried. She knew better than most that wasn't the last of it, not by a long shot. She and Erandur were pretty much going to have to lay on him tonight, and watch him like a hawk for the next few days. Telki would definitely help, though she wasn't sure if she could count on Shell for something like this yet. "Come on, Merc, let's get to the chairs by the fire. I can't feel my backside anymore."

Lydia pulled, and Erandur joined her to bracket Merc on the other side, herding him to the warmth at the hearth. Mercutio was prone to getting lost in his head and careless when like this, not a good combination in cold climates. She needed to ask Erandur about the heat enchants. She settled on the couch to one side of him, while Erandur took the other side, physically reminding Mercutio he wasn't alone.

All three were jostled in a gut-wrenching moment as the entire couch was yanked backwards, the world warping around it and settling on a misty woodland.

"What in Mara's Name?" Erandur's head was wheeling about, trying to place where he was. In the end, it was his earlier forays into Daedra worship that allowed him to figure it out. "The Realms of Revelry? Really?"

"Whoopsie. Brought the couch," the seven foot Dremora said, reaching down and plucking Merc from his seat as if he weighed nothing.

" _Sam?"_ Lydia's mind was properly spinning. All she'd ever seen of him was the affable Breton. If she tried to hit him right now, she was sure she'd either break her fist, or get stuck on one of the many spikes bristling all over his armor like a black and red hedgehog.

"Lydia," Sam replied, then swung the entire couch about with his free arm as if it were a child's top. When it stopped, they were back in the livingroom.

For a long moment she could neither think nor speak, stomach tied in a knot that made it hard to pull enough air into her lungs. "So, you were going to tell me I added a seven foot spiny hedgehog to my bed when?" she finally managed, turning to glare at Erandur.

"You what?" Well, looked like someone didn't get the memo. This was going to be a fun conversation.

"Okay, you look how I feel, and that's not good," Sam said, looking down into his adorable mortal boyfriend's overly-pretty face. "Should I bring the couch back? I can leave them on the floor."

"You  _left!"_  Merc spun around and hid his face in his hands before he could say or do anything worse, shoulders hunched and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Of  _course_  I left! I'm not freaking out about siring two kids  _in front_ of them! They have enough shit to deal with now!" Sam said, surprised. "Do you know what happens when I freak out? It starts with fermentation and ends in explosions. Did you want that in the house?"

Mercutio was a bit busy gulping air into lungs that didn't want to work. His throat felt tight. Of course Sam had reason to freak, of course he didn't want to worry the kids. That meant absolutely jack all to his panic, and of course Sam was ill equipped to deal with him and his issues. What the hell were they thinking?

"Hey," Sanguine said, frowning and coming over to put a hand on his shoulder. "I was coming back. I said I just needed a moment. Granted, it was several minutes, and a side trip to yell into impartial ears, but I was planning to come back. And I did."

Mercutio latched onto that like a drowning man at driftwood. "You did. You came back." Mercutio pulled Sam into a hug strong enough to threaten daedric bones. "You came back."

"Okay, Muffin, you know I cope with tears one of two ways. If you want neither booze nor comfort sex, suggestions are welcome," Sam said, putting his arms around him and holding him close. Being Sam, it wasn't entirely comforting or free of groping.

"Ass, just hold me a while and let me soak your shirt."

"Do you want me to go grab a shirt for you to soak then?" Mercutio couldn't help the soggy laugh. Maybe Sam was better at the comfort thing than he gave himself credit for.

Mercutio settled himself. He took a steadying breath, and then took another to settle the giddy relief of Sam being back. "No, no I'm good now, but given your state, I think you're the one needing comfort right now?"

"I can't get drunk!" Sam wailed, sounding much more like himself.

Mercutio looked for a comfortable spot to settle himself so he could coddle Sam while they sorted this mess out. This was the Misty Grove, the center of the Realms of Revelry, there was bound to be something. As if the act of looking had conjured it, the mist parted to reveal one of the bean bag chairs the Khajiit use, covered in a tasseled rug in a strange, shimmering green that might have been pretty were it not for the unfortunate pea shade. Merc got them settled, then set himself to unraveling Sam's mystery. "This started when you discovered Luce and Frankie were yours, didn't it?"

Sam's only reply was to groan and lean back into the feather and bean stuffed chair, rubbing his face with his palms. His shoulder spikes popped several holes in the fabric.

"Okay, you said Jyggalag scared you sober," Merc dredged the memory up from the depths of his brain. "So, this scares you, we have to deal with it. Talk to me, what exactly is scaring you, and how can we help?" Merc rocked Sam a little, "You know it won't just be me helping, right?"

"Helping what? I'm not meant to be a parent: I don't want to be a parent. I like the kids alright, but I don't know the first thing about parenting. I'm the one parents actually warn their kids about. Okay, apparently I know that about parenting. Not helpful, though," Sam babbled.

"Sam, Sam, Sam!" Mercutio kept up the gentle rocking, trying to settle him. "Who said you had to step in right away as a parent? Did Shell?"

"She's  _trying!_ Unless you count running away. She did that too."

"Thankfully, Gideon has a different set of issues than I do," Mercutio shook his head, not a helpful tangent right now, "but I'll tell you, and if it makes you feel any better, Telki can tell you, there's room for you however you want to fit into this. If being a parent scares you witless, or you don't think you can or should, then be the fun uncle. Luce and Frankie will love you either way. They already do, you know."

"Aw," he said, flushing a little. He'd interacted with kids before, but not much. They had a habit of bringing out the responsibility in people just by being present, and the ones that had been stuck with one of his followers or at a revelry had always made him feel oddly guilty. His steward tended to show up and take them off to sleep somewhere quieter. "They're cute kids, anyway. Never really noticed kids much, since they don't drink. Most interesting thing they do is eat too much sugar, really." He thought about that for a moment, "I wonder who their mothers were?"

"All we know of them was that Lucia's mother died, leaving the farm to her sister and husband, who kicked Lucia off. It's within walking distance of Whiterun, but that's all we know. Frankie still swears his parents are coming back for him. His 'father,' dropped him off at Honorhall. Guess we know why, now."

Sam flinched, wincing. "Might be paying a few visits," he muttered. "Bothers me I don't know, but that's not the kind of thing my followers tell me. Sometimes a woman disappears for a year, but my years kinda blur together, if you know what I mean."

"Sam," Mercutio had to think his words through. "You provide your followers an escape. They come to you when the world becomes too much to handle. Why would they tell you, the person providing their escape, about the things they are escaping?"

Sam glanced at him, black eyes thoughtful. "You have a point, Muffin." Alarm bloomed after a moment, "Cripes, how many kids have I got?"

Mercutio smirked, finally able to provide a real answer. "Well, how many times have your feelings gotten involved?"

"Eh?"

"Both Ralof's wives are expecting. They said that daedra are fertile only when feelings are involved. Good thing I'm a guy, I guess?" Merc kissed the top of Sam's head carefully, honestly worried for him. How was this not drunk and thoughtfulness affecting his Realm? The quiet in the Misty Grove was disconcerting to say the least. There was always noise here, on their many passes through.

A frown crossed Sanguine's face. "Feelings?" He made a thoughtful sound, mind turning over several years of liaisons.

"Caring about your partner beyond mutual orgasms. I imagine you'd remember them best," Mercutio clarified, ears straining in the unusual quiet. "Uh, Sam, where is everyone? The Grove is never this quiet."

"Sleeping, mostly. I couldn't think, so I put them all to sleep," he replied absently, worrying his thumbnail. "The Dremora are keeping watch on things. I have my steward trying very hard to get through Talon's shields. She's not had to work that hard in ages; he's lucky she's not into men. Might have to ask Mittens about it. Or Flavs."

Mercutio's eyebrows drew together. "Mila's trying to get through Talon's shields? Why?" He shook his head. Even now, it was like trying to talk to Telki after eating an entire platter of honey nut treats. "Sam, if you let us, we'll help you deal with this. All of us, not just me."

"I'm not fit to be a parent," he said finally. "I worked alright with uncle-figure, I think. They have parents, good parents, and I'm not even sure I want to  _try_ to be that. It's…stressful. I want a drink."

"Then be the best rogue of an uncle-figure they ever had. They'll be happy to have you in their lives, period."

"Not so sure about that once they hit puberty, but hey, at least I can help them with their powers," he said, staring up at the sky, which was not visible through the mists at all.

Powers? Merc filed that away to panic about later. "See? That's something we can't do."

"Probably not something I  _should_ do," Sam admitted with a jaundiced look at him. "I'd encourage them to actually use them."

"Well, that also falls under roguish uncle-figure, doesn't it?" Mercutio hummed. "I also wonder if you'd actually follow through on that. You know Lucia's having the Talk as we speak with Telki and Shell."

"Oh, good," Sam scoffed. "So in a few short years I can go from Roguish Uncle to Reprobate Grandpa." He  _really_ needed a drink.

"Sam, we'll work this through, I'm not going to leave you to deal with this alone." Mercutio slid out from under him, so that he was hovering over Sam, meeting his eyes. "I love you." He kissed him.

Sanguine made an extremely surprised noise before pulling Merc closer, his kiss just a tad desperate for once. Merc's answering desperation was a clear indication he wasn't as over his scare as he'd let on earlier. "Sorry I scared you, Muffin," Sam murmured after a few increasingly fevered minutes, "And…at the risk of a certain Aedra coming down here and hitting me with a broom, I feel extremely ridiculously affectionate towards you as well."

Mercutio laughed against Sam's mouth. "We'll make it work. Promise. Now, about that comfort sex you mentioned earlier?"

Sanguine's lips curved upwards in a mischievous grin. "Well, if you insist…"

**.**

* * *

**.**

Lydia could feel her heart hammering in her chest, and had to consciously slow her breathing down. She was not prepared for that, at all. That was not what she'd agreed to, at all. Scrubbing at her skin again as if to wash away the mists that had clung to her after Sanguine tossed them in and out of his portal, she threw the washcloth across the tub with a sound of frustration, wincing away from the surprisingly large splash of soapy water it sent toward her face.

_What in Oblivion could Mercutio have been thinking?_

She'd always scoffed when someone said there was a difference between knowing, and  _knowing._  She did not care for the taste of humility. It rather tasted like rising bile. "I'm sorry, Lydia. I thought you knew," did not cut it, even with the contrition only a priest of Mara could pull, and she sunk lower in the warm water. Sadly, scrubbing her skin raw did nothing for scrubbing the vision out of her head. Drink was absolutely out the question. Perhaps it was time for the sauna. Maybe she could sweat it out.

Grumbling, Lydia sloshed out of the bath, wrapping her thick, oversized towel about her, and stomped down the short hall to the sauna, glad it was late enough there'd be no children in there. It was a custom affair, built with comfort in mind. She'd idly considered napping in there a time or two, but falling asleep in saunas was generally frowned upon. Everyone knew the story of the parboiled poacher.

"Stupid oversized seven foot hedgehog, what the hell? Why did noone see fit to  _warn_ me?" Lydia screeched to a halt. The sauna had an occupant, and she felt her face flush. "Sorry, didn't realize I wasn't alone."

Shell raised her eyebrows, not raising her chin from where it rested on her arms, stretched out on her towel on one of the benches, lazily kicking her feet in the air. "Do I even want to ask what a hedgehog is?"

Lydia groaned. "It's an animal covered in prickly quills so predators leave it alone."

The mer tilted her head in confusion, hair looking almost red in its damp state. "What kind of predators would go after a seven foot hog anyway?"

Lydia laughed. "None I know of, well sabercats might. But a real hedgehog is small, about hand size, and it's not really a hog. I don't know why they called them that, honestly, except they do live in hedges."

"Ah," she replied, surmising she'd either see it at some point, or not have to worry about it. "Are you wanting to join me then? I'm not leaving—I think this is the first time I've been warm since…you know, I don't actually remember the last time I was completely warm." She gave an exaggerated shudder. In the dim light of the sauna, her reddened skin took on the olive tones of her father's people, though she would always be paler than a true Bosmer.

"Nah, it's fine." Lydia studied her, considering what she saw. "I didn't think your people revered scars, or is this one of those things I'm not supposed to talk about?"

"What?" Shell blinked at her, pulled a little bit more out of the lethargy the heat had lulled her into.

Lydia settled back into a corner, not quite sitting, not quite laying down, letting the wall take her weight as she absorbed some of the its warmth. "Nords like scars. They are physical proof that you are tougher than whatever put it there; that you were stronger than your adversary. I didn't know elves did that."

Pausing, her eyes flickered back, though she couldn't actually see the network of scars that patterned her thighs and hips with near-precision without moving to look at them. She didn't need to; every one was as etched into her memory as her skin. "Elves don't. They're kind of embarrassing, really. Proof that you weren't able to heal yourself. It's permissible if the story is good enough, but those are few and far between, and are usually accompanied by being alone while performing heroics."

Lydia's eyebrows furrowed. "That makes no sense. I know you can heal, so, why are you marked?"

"Uncle always coated his knives in magicka poison. He couldn't be bothered to clean them before he practiced," Shell said flatly, looking straight forward and trying to keep her muscles from tensing. There wasn't much to hide that besides the mist and relative gloom. "He etched a different pattern into each of his students. If he reached your neck, he culled you."

"He  _what?"_  Lydia felt her hands curl into fists. It took her a moment to consciously uncurl them, and regain control of her volume. "I think maybe Gideon and Mercutio actually downplayed some of what you went through. I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable."

Thinking on that a moment, Shell shrugged. "I sort of liked what you said, though. About what Nords think?"

"It certainly applies. You're here, he's not." Lydia grinned to herself, "You know who I do pity, though?"

"The first boy coming around here looking to court a daughter?" she guessed.

Lydia laughed. "Besides him. You know Telki has an almost elvish view of healing, and poor Gideon's Nord to the bone?"

"Oh, that's right! He said something about beating Su up twice, or something," she shrugged. "I stopped listening after 'even taller than me.' My mind went more interesting places."

Lydia laughed. "Yes, Tsun. You have to prove your worthiness to enter the Halls of Shor, and poor Gideon hasn't so much as a scratch." Lydia side eyed Shell, "Though you did your best."

"I fixed him!" she protested.

"Eh, he probably had it coming." Lydia settled back in her corner.

"Oh, you weren't told when that happened?" Shell surmised, looking at the other woman. Actually, she was admiring her calves, but she was trying not to be too obvious about it.

"They wanted to tell me everything, but weren't sure what pieces you'd prefer to tell, and didn't want to unduly influence my opinion before I met you, so what I have is very…patchy. I know you had an extremely hard childhood, were tortured by someone I only know as Ill Minion, and that Thalmor are worse nightmares than even the Nordiest Nord thought."

Her feet came down to lay quiet as she considered this, raising herself up on her elbows. "Huh. I figured you'd know more about me than I would at this point, considering. That was just after Pearl was culled. I was…well, I blamed Gideon. He showed up promising to get us all out, and then my little sister gets murdered for keeping kittens," she shook her head, scoffing. "I wanted to blame someone. I didn't care who."

"That's a very human reaction, honestly." Lydia drew her knees up onto the bench, resting her chin on them. "You were hurting, and Gideon promised more than he could deliver, raising your hopes, or so it seemed at the time."

Shell shot her an amused look. "Here I was worried you were going to be judgemental. Everyone else hears that I put a dagger in him and acts like I'm crazy. Or like he's crazy for keeping me."

"Well, to hear Rommy put it, Nords are crazy as a whole anyway." Lydia scrunched her nose at Shell, "Personally, I think it's the other way around."

"What, that everyone else is mad and you're all sane? Nope. I can attest, you're all nuttier than your average stone loaf."

Lydia giggled. "But if you're the crazy one, would you even know you were crazy? Wouldn't sane seem crazy to insane thinking?"

Groaning, she put her head in her hands as if it ached, hair flopping forward to plop wetly onto the bench. "Ugh, stop. You're making my poor brain ache!"

"Now you know how I feel most of the time. Never mind what sent me scrambling in here in the first place."

"A giant spiky not-a-hog?" she ventured, sitting up and pulling the towel around her, fumbling a bit before she remembered she was sitting on it.

"I just met Sam in all his glory. I had no idea." Lydia was blushing to her roots.

"Oooh. Yeah, he's a bit startling," Shell agreed. "Though I don't suppose you've been around Dremora very much, either."

"Not a lot of Dremora in the Whiterun barracks, no." Lydia shook her head. "Most of my life, the Daedric Princes were just scary stories. Now, now there's Rommy and Sam right here, in the house! And I agreed to sleep with him!" Lydia did not shriek, though it was a near thing, and she buried her face in her knees.

"Don't worry about it," Shell advised after a moment examining her. "He followed me around with a freaking mark on my hand that made me instantly respond to his presence nearly the entire time I was away, and he never forced the issue. Actually, Senna told me he wouldn't. It's not his Sphere."

Lydia thumped her head against her knees, "But if I turn around and suddenly say 'no' after saying 'yes'? What sort of person would that make me? I'd be hurting Mercutio, too. I  _liked_  Sam. Despite being a sot and insatiable, there's a likable person in there. And then seven foot hedgehog happened." Lydia raised her head, brows scrunched. "Who's Senna?"

"Oh,  _Sam's_  the hedgehog. That makes sense," Shell nodded, then flushed, looking sheepish. "Uh…I'm not entirely sure if she counts as a girlfriend or if she just wants to be my mentor into the priesthood of Dibella."

Lydia tilted her head as she regarded Shell top to toe. "Yeah, I can see why Dibella'd want you."

"Really?" Shell purred, dimpling at her merrily and giving her that cunning, assessing look that had made Gideon nervous for about the first month after their meeting.

"Huh," Lydia blushed, "Rommy was right."

"About what?" Shell asked, glancing around to see if anyone left any combs in the place, then shrugging and finger-combing her hair before plaiting it loosely. It was going to be a tangled mess later, but she'd already had two little girls asking if they could help her with it.

"He and I had a long talk, about…about you and me and 'growing' our relationship." Lydia was quite sure her cheeks were hot enough to fry bacon.

Considering that, Shell leaned back, propping one arm on the bench above her. "Flirting is how I socialize. I do it with just about everyone, but I'll stop if it makes you uncomfortable. Well, try to stop, anyway. I find you very attractive, and wouldn't mind forming a physical relationship with you, but emotional ones are very new to me. You probably see Gideon acting as councilor half the time."

Lydia rested her chin on her knees, considering. "You're pretty, you're fun, and I think I'd like to give it a try. If you needed another counselor, I wouldn't mind. Sometimes, Gideon doesn't have, shall we say, the right perspective?" Lydia's glance took in both of their rather generous bosoms with a smirky eyebrow.

"Perfect perspective to get distracted, anyway," Shell chuckled, then looked slightly shy, "Just…remember the lover thing as opposed to friend with sex thing is new? I don't always find myself responding the way people apparently expect, and I have no idea what I did wrong most of those times."

Lydia slid around, cuddling Shell to her side. "It's alright. Half the time, nobody knows what to do with us anyway. You fit right in. And, you can always ask if something doesn't make sense."

"Okay, I have an instant question then: Should I tell Lucia and Sura about how not to get pregnant, or is that a wait until they're ready to risk it and want to ask kind of thing?" The girls' Talk had been very different from her own, and she was still confused about it. Not in the least because it involved a lot of talk about feelings, which only made it more apparent she didn't know what she was doing. At least she was able to help with the "this is what your bodies are doing now" part of the conversation.

Lydia had to sit and think about that one for a moment. "I'm not really sure myself what is appropriate. Why didn't you mention it when you and Telki were talking to them? Do they know they can come to you if they need that kind of advice?"

"Well, I was still working out the whole 'when you find someone you really love' thing she'd started with. That threw me a lot," she admitted. "My first lessons were 'this is how you make babies when you are instructed to,' and 'now this is how you turn a mark to putty if needed.'"

Lydia chewed that over. "Well, a modification of that lesson might be handy, considering we may be dealing with Young Ones targeting them that way. Seriously, discuss it with Telki."

Shell snorted, "She may not come off as trained as the rest of us, but trust me, even Sura can spot another Young One. Lucia is the one I'd be worried about there, and now she might have a one up on them," she thought about that. "I wonder how that's going to affect her."

Lydia thought for a while, considering all the little quirks and foibles of her oldest daughter. "I think Lucia's a very level-headed girl, but she is starting to notice boys, and she's at least in love with the idea of falling in love. I don't know how being Sanguine's daughter is going to affect that, or where a Young One trying to play on that would lead. I do know what having so many overprotective guardians would do to that Young One. There won't be enough left to bury or burn."

"Alright, you are going to have to explain 'in love with the idea of love,'" Shell admitted, pursing her lips. Somehow, she doubted any Young One showing up specifically to entice the children would get treated overmuch different than Heron was—poor boy was watched like a hawk. Of course, they probably wouldn't see the children much after that was known, but she had no doubt every effort would be made to save them from their mission.

Lydia was at a loss for words. How did one explain blue sky to someone that had never seen color? That was about where she felt she was at the moment. "Bear with me, because you don't exactly have the same frames of reference I do for this. So, Lucia grew up listening to fairytales and bard stories and ballads involving dashing heroes and heroines, brave questers, and entirely too many poignant love stories to name. So, she wants to fall in love, just like in all those stories. Every handsome young face she meets, she wonders if he's the one."

Shell's face scrunched in confusion. "She wants to get sweaty palms and have stomach fluttery feelings, feel stupid half the time, and not be able to keep a thought in her head every time someone is around? That's not very bright of her."

Lydia fell back against the wall laughing. "Oh poor Shell! No, she hasn't experienced real love yet, so she's got all these grand romantic notions involving gazing deeply into each other's eyes, overwhelming euphoria, and unlimited hugs and kisses."

"…Ok-ay…" she drawled, still confused. "That sounds familiar, too," she admitted. "What am I missing? Just that she might try to force it to happen with the first pretty idiot that crosses her path when she's feeling lonely?"

"Exactly. She's already made goo goo eyes at Haffod, poor Ragnar the Courier, and Heron," Lydia sighed. "Thankfully, Ragnar and Haffod were intimidated enough it rather spoiled her romantic expectations, and I don't think Heron even realizes she's interested."

"He does," Shell shrugged. "He just doesn't want to go there. I get the feeling he thinks she's too young, and I really get the feeling he doesn't want any attachments right now. After all, if they find them, anyone they find with them is going to get slaughtered before they're killed or taken back to get reeducated."

"Yeah, but whether he realizes it or not, he's been claimed. I don't think any attempts on him are going to end well for the attackers, and when, exactly, do they plan to start living?" Lydia frowned. "Maybe they could all do with a bit of Nordic philosophy: you could die horribly tomorrow, so get your living done today."

"See, I've pretty much always thought that. Well, since I met Onda, anyway. I was so sick of everything by that point…Anyway, I used to be a bit like Pearl, believe it or not. Thought too much." She toyed idly with her braid. "I really think Heron's enjoying himself here. He still wants to find his parents, and he wants to make sure Sura is set, and I think he wants to wait to see what Demeus decides, but he's…relaxed. You don't often see one of his type genuinely relaxed."

"His type?" Lydia frowned. "Just how many 'types' are there?"

"Heron's a courtesan," she shrugged. "His weapons are charm, looks, and making everyone like him. My mother is also a courtesan, and Blossom would have been. Pearl probably would have either been a courtesan or a battlemage. Talon is a battlemage assassin, but he's also served as a courtesan before he became a trainer. I was a saboteur assassin. Sura was support, and simply assisted the rest of her team to do their jobs better. Demeus has markers of both saboteur and courtesan. I wouldn't be surprised if they expected him to be one, then switched his training halfway through."

"Thalmor make my head hurt." Lydia kept one arm looped around Shell as she used both palms to rub her temples. "Divines, it's amazing you all have any trust left, after that, and apparently, Heron's weapons are double edged."

"There comes a point where you're so pretty people hate you on sight. I don't know how he ended up that way without being specifically bred for it, but I feel bad for him, sometimes. Merc, too," she shrugged. "Really, I'm lucky my training was complete before I suddenly started looking like my mother. Courtesans—female ones, anyway—don't survive their first missions very often. I mean, they complete them, they just usually can't get out alive. Mother had to trek partway across the Alik'r desert in a Frost Cloak being chased by angry Redguards, and they greeted her arrival with complete disbelief."

"Wow, trekked half the desert in a Frost Cloak? How did she manage that?"

"Partway, not half, and she'd lived with that particular…whatever the Redguards call their lords, for the better part of six years before she killed him. She'd learned some things," Shell shrugged. "I'm not sure how she managed that, really. She doesn't like to talk about things like that very much. All I know was that she was very, very good at her job, one of the best courtesans on record, and she hated it with every fiber of her being." There was a brief pause before Shell laughed. "And then she falls for Tyr, who honestly had no idea she was trying to seduce him. And he turns out to be the next bloody emperor. It's like a bad ballad."

Lydia giggled. "Where do you think those bad ballads got their start?"

"Hopefully not from Telki; I thought she was better than that," Shell sniffed, eyes twinkling again.

"I'm telling her you said that," Lydia goaded.

"Go right ahead," Shell gave a dismissive flick of her fingers.

"Pray it doesn't kick her into 'teacher mode.' You will learn more about music theory and plot construction than you ever wanted to know."

"I've sat through worse," Shell said with confidence.

"Eh, I like you too much. Maybe I won't mention it," Lydia relented. "You've obviously suffered enough."

"So what had you cursing so much coming in here?" Shell asked, wanting to get off that subject. "You agreed to sleep with Sam, and somehow never knew he was actually…what was it? A 'seven foot hedgehog?'"

"I liked him as a person, despite being a reprobate lecher, and then freaked because it never occurred to me he was really a seven foot Dremora, yeah."

"So tell him to stay in human form," Shell shrugged, not really getting the issue.

Lydia laid back and thought a moment, trying to put her issues into words. "It's not the same; I know now. Not even in the same cosmos, but, it's similar to having a favorite food, then learning something scary was in it—like spider venom. Even though you loved the taste, you can't stand it now that you know it's in there."

"Alright, so I'm going to take a turn at all this advice stuff. If it bothers you that you want to say 'no' now, tell him that him being a giant otherworldly talking piece of coal is odd to you, and you need time to reconsider. Spend some time with him in that form before you absolutely say 'no,' but I will reiterate that he won't force you; it's not his Sphere. He may try to wheedle you or offer half an inn's worth of mead first, but forcing the issue would push him out of his Sphere, and he's already stretching that by intruding on Dibella's with Merc."

"I think it's mostly the shock of it all." Lydia leaned into Shell. "Do you know, I never worried he'd force me? That didn't play into it. Now, I did worry if I told him 'no', he'd get mad, and maybe make mead taste like puke or something, but I never worried about that. Huh."

"Huh, what?" Shell asked, enjoying snuggling with the other woman. Gideon snuggles were wonderful, but women—even Nord women, who were every bit as muscular as the men—were just softer, somehow. Pleasant in a different way.

"Maybe I can get used to a seven foot hedgehog afterall."

"He's still the same person," Shell pointed out philosophically. "If nothing else, you could be friends?" She was really plumbing her new knowledge of this stuff for this conversation.

"Just when did you get so wise, huh?" Lydia smiled down at her, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

Blushing, Shell fiddled with the end of her braid. "Well, I did run around doing nothing but meeting people for two months. Well, meeting people, robbing people, apprenticing in various crafts, and exploring ruins. And building them, apparently. Never, ever go to Morrowind if you can help it."

"Raven Rock is the closest I'll ever come to it, I think. Telki has a house there."

"I hope she won't be hurt if I don't visit it. That place is creepy and full of ash," Shell said firmly, shuddering.

"I hear the Skaal Village is nice, so's the mead hall there."

"Still creepy and full of ash. I'm not going back there for all the mead in Tamriel."

"You've been there?"

"Some strange man turned into a giant bear and left a message for his brother," she leaned her head on Lydia's shoulder. "I was doing that trying-to-be-nice thing. That's about when I decided that I was right the first time and being too nice can be hazardous. Temper nice with common sense."

"You know, I don't think Telki's ever learned that one."

"What was it Erandur said? Mara provides people that help balance you? I suppose that's why we're all here."

"…If that's true, you realize how unbalanced she is?" Lydia couldn't stop the giggles if she tried.

Shell burst out laughing, not stopping until her sides hurt. "You know, though," she finally managed, catching her breath, "it kind of evens out. Telki's too-much-love-not-enough-sense, Merc with his confidence issues, Anu knows I have issues, Gideon needing to open up to the idea of needing people, and Rommy's the freaking Daedra of Madness. We're all balancing each other. Like that children's game, where they all lean on each other until someone falls down? Then they all help each other back up? Or…" She shook her head. "I'm still learning children's games."

"Hanging statues. They were playing it just the other day. Your siblings joined in, they kept getting bored."

She giggled again. "How'd Orien do?"

"Embarrassed he couldn't keep up with Blossom. He fell over once, and that was mostly because Blaise fell on him."

"Poor baby," Shell grinned. "What'd Blossom do to Blaise?"

"Black eye. She took Ama to heart on the punching thing."

"Well, better than stabbing, I suppose, though she is capable of healing."

"Well, he borrowed a play from Orien's book, looking at her like she kicked his puppy. You know he idolizes her? So, she healed it, but warned him no falling on her brother, or else."

"Best watch them; she'll try her hand at teaching," Shell warned, then remembered she'd have to watch too. "Ah, Sithis." Lydia took one look at her woe-begone face and burst out laughing.


	30. Good welcome can make good people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie lay awake. All of his siblings were asleep, even Lucia. He wasn't sleepy, just completely and utterly confused. His dad, the man he thought was his 'real' dad, wasn't. Uncle Sam was his dad, but how could he be his dad, if he was his uncle? For that matter, what did that make all his Poppas? Was he even allowed to have that many poppas? And, furthermore, Demeus had called him a demon child. He didn't want to be a demon, and Lucia was the sweetest person next to Pearl he'd ever met. She couldn't be a demon, and she was his really real sister, too! Frankie gave up sleeping as a lost cause. He needed to talk to somebody, anybody at this point. His thoughts were whirling ninety miles a minute, and refused to let him sleep. He slid out of bed, and padded down the hallway to find an Adult.

Sadly, no Adults were forthcoming. Frankie huffed to himself, and decided a midnight snack might make things better. He padded towards the kitchen, headed straight for the cold storage. Surely something good would be in there? On the way, a sound in the wardrobe room caught his attention. He cautiously peered inside. He'd been a bit leery of the place, since they put the portals in there. He'd sometimes get goosebumps for no reason in that room after that.

Murril was out of bed, sitting in front of the wardrobe in her nightgown, staring at it. Sparkles whirled around her, hovering one moment before moving restively to the other side of the room.

"Hi," Frankie offered. "Can I sit with you?"

She didn't respond, simply staring at the wardrobe door. Green light flickered through the cracks of it briefly, like lightning through a window.

"Murril, are you okay?" Frankie tiptoed into the room. The goosebump feeling was tingling all over, but his concern for Murril outweighed his unease. "Murril?"

Stray locks of her hair straggled over her face, and her eyes were sleepy and sad. She looked pitiable, but didn't move, didn't even glance away from the wardrobe. Light flickered through the cracks again, painting them both green. Now, Frankie was pretty sure he needed to get an Adult, and he quickly padded off in search of one. He wondered if maybe he should wake one up.

"What are you doing up?" a peevish voice asked out of nowhere.

Frankie jumped, and whirled, seeing Demeus standing there, looking cross and with snow still clinging to his shoulders and dark brown hair. Of course the closest thing he could find to an adult would be the one that didn't like him and called him a demon.

"Murril's stuck, and I can't sleep," Frankie finally said. His worry for Murril outweighed his own discomfort.

Demeus frowned. "Stuck? Stuck in what?"

Frankie sighed. "Murril gets stuck in her own worries and has a hard time getting out. Sometimes, only Poppa Rommy can get her out. He's not here, and I don't know what to do."

Now the youth looked interested. "I had a teammate that used to sleepwalk. Like that?"

"Kinda, only Murril's is about something called a…" Frankie turned a concerned gaze on the little girl, sidling closer to Demeus to softly whisper "Do you know what a Sload is? Nobody will tell me."

Demeus blanched. "Seriously? She survived Sload? No wonder she's messed up." Walking around the boy so that Murril was in his line of sight, he whistled. "That…That's an Oblivion Gate, isn't it? In a wardrobe."

"Yeah, Poppa Rommy made it." Frankie stood watching it and Murril. "Am I really a demon? Momma Lydia would probably tell me I'm not even if I was, because she loves me. You'd tell me the truth."

The Redguard considered the boy for a bit. "Yeah, you probably are. Half anyway. But you're alright. Met people a lot worse than you and Sam, so that has to count for something. I mean, take Sload," he glanced at Murril. "They're a beastrace, I think, but instead of lizards or cats they're like slugs, and they make people sick for fun, and play with dead people. I can't see you doing that, so that's all that counts, right?" He shrugged, way out of his element.

Frankie beetled his brows trying to sort out what he meant. "So, I have to be half bad? What if I don't want to be bad at all?"

Letting out an explosive sigh, Demeus knelt in front of him. "Listen kid, it doesn't matter what you are or what people call you. People are going to call you whatever they want, and think whatever they want. If you don't agree, then prove them wrong. Be how you want. Do what you want. Just because someone calls you a rat doesn't give you a tail, does it?"

"No?" Frankie sat down close to Murril, picked up her hand and held it so she wouldn't be alone. Maybe touch would help, even if he wasn't Poppa Rommy. "So I can be good if I want to?"

"Nothing's stopping you," Demeus said carelessly, one eye on the roving atronach. "And it seems to me you're pretty good already."

Frankie thought about the other thing bothering him. "Is it okay to have so many parents?"

"Better too many than not enough," the older boy grumbled.

Frankie tilted his head. "You know, if you wanted, they could be yours, too."

"I'm still working on getting rid of the parent I do have," he shook his head, brown hair flopping over skin nearly the same shade and into his vivid blue eyes. "Does that thing always flicker like that? It's creeping me out. I keep expecting Dremora to burst through."

Frankie studied the door. "No, this is new. Poppa Rommy had to go for a few days, it really upset Murril and Momma Telki. I think she's gonna go get him in the morning."

"Right. Get him in the morning. Through an Oblivion Gate. Like it's any other door," he muttered. "I really don't understand you people. How do you take this so…" he made a sound of frustration, shaking his head. "You're all mad."

Frankie sat and thought a moment. "Well, Poppa Rommy says we're not? Wouldn't he know?"

"Given that he's a madman himself he might just be the last to know," Demeus said wryly. "So, what do you normally do with her?" he pointed at Murril, who hadn't moved except to blink.

"Go get Poppa Rommy, but he's not here. We've never had her like this when we couldn't call him to help."

"Well, that thing doesn't look safe," the elder boy said, looking over the wardrobe warily, then jumping when it rattled.

"It's giving me bad goosebumps, but I don't want to leave Murril. I guess I need to go wake up an Adult."

"Don't bother," Demeus advised, seeing that the little boy already had her hand. Ignoring the angrily buzzing atronach, he scooped the little Altmer up and stood. She lolled in his arms like she was a doll. "Which way?"

"This way." Frankie got up, and motioned Demeus to follow him back to the kids' room. "Don't worry, I'll stay with her. My head's too full to sleep anyway."

"Thanks. I'm pretty sure if they caught me in here they'd be angry first and ask questions while angry," he said, putting the girl down carefully on the bed Frankie indicated and, after a moment, spreading the covers over her. He lept back when Sparkles floated up onto the bed.

"Nah, they don't work that way. Well, sometimes Poppa Mercutio does, but that's rare, too." Frankie said matter of factly. "Her covers go this way." He began to tuck them around Murril, directing Demeus to help him get the corners his little arms couldn't reach.

"Wish she'd close her eyes," he murmured, awkwardly tucking stray blanket edges in under Frankie's enthusiastic direction. "That's almost as creepy as the door." He reached up and closed them, but they popped right back open, staring into the darkness above her.

"She's lost in her head, and I wish I could pull her out like Poppa Rommy does." Frankie sat himself on the corner of Murril's bed, showing no inclination to go back to his bed at all.

"Does slapping her help?" Demeus asked. In no way, shape, or form was he doing that without knowing it would help. They'd skin him alive.

"Nobody's tried that. Like I said, Poppa Rommy's usually there to help. He just touches her arm, and she's back with us." Frankie looked ready to cry.

"Eh, shit. Wait here, I'm…doing something they'll probably think drastic," he glanced at the girl and shivered, then returned to his own room, ignoring Heron immediately opening his eyes to look at him, made a face at the sleeping fox curled about his head, and returned to the children's room with his pack.

"What's that for?" Frankie craned his neck, trying to see, but never let go of Murril's hand.

"This is going to sound bad, but hear me out first," Demeus said.

"Okay?"

"I have a poi—potion that sends people to sleep. Deep sleep, not even dream sleep. They wake up after a few hours, completely fine. If she's stuck dreaming awake, this should pull her out and send her back to sleep."

"Okay, that doesn't sound bad, that sounds like what Murril needs. Why would that make the Adults angry?"

"It's not the kind of potion you drink," he said, casting a quick look around. "I'd have to poke her with a needle or something."

"Does it have to be a needle?" Frankie whined, rubbing his own arm in sympathy pain.

"Well, I'm not about to cut her with a knife, are you?" the teen asked, spotting a small sewing kit between Lucia and Sofie's beds and heading over quietly to search through it.

"Ew! That's even worse!" Frankie yelped, wrinkling his nose at Demeus.

"Frankie, shush!" Lucia, eyes still closed, lobbed her pillow at Frankie's voice, hitting Demeus instead. He caught it, blinked, and looked down at it a moment before returning it to her by dropping it on her head, turning his grumbling attentions back to the sewing box.

"Needles 'n pins in the cushion on the bottom. What are you doing?"

"Go back to sleep," the Redguard groused, not looking at her.

"'Yes, telling someone to go back to sleep is such a great way to ensure they go back to sleep, instead of making them curious as a Khajiit." Lucia sat all the way up, resting her chin on the pillow now in her lap. "So, again, what are you doing that you need a pin from my sewing chest?"

"Helping," he said, then gave her a sideways smile that was half grimace. "Try not to faint. I'm actually helping."

"You are? What's happened? What can I do to help?"

"I already told you," he said, finding the thinnest pin he could find and standing, "Go back to sleep."

"That's usually the opposite of helping. What if you need another pair of hands or something, or what if one of the Poppas find you in here?"

"I'm helping!" Frankie bounced next to Murril.

"Shhh!" Demeus hushed, visibly stressed. "I've already had one attempt at a heart to heart tonight, I'd rather not have to sit through two."

"I promise, no heart to hearts or attempts to be friendly, then." Lucia's eyes danced in mirth. "But if you actually need another pair of hands, mine might be more useful than Frankie's."

"But then what can I do?" His little voice was enough to break hearts.

"You can tell the Poppas you and Sparkles chaperoned."

"What's a chap-a, a shapa, what's that?"

"Someone that tells the Poppas we behaved," Demeus said absently, dipping the needle in alcohol before wiping it off, then carefully uncorking the sleeping poison. At this point, he didn't hold out much hope for leaving without one of the parents coming in and sitting him down for another talk. "She moved at all, Frankie?"

"Not even a little." His little voice was full of worry.

"Ugh, fine," he dipped the needle in the poison, carefully let it drip into the bottle, then quick as a thought jabbed it into the Altmer's bare arm. Murril didn't even twitch, but after a few seconds her body relaxed slightly, and her eyes slid shut. "Eh, that wasn't so hard."

"Demeus, what did you just do to Murril?" Lucia watched Frankie pat her hand.

"Sent her back to sleep," he said, watching her closely, relieved that she did seem much more relaxed. "Figured if her problem was in her mind, it was probably best to turn her mind off."

"That actually makes a lot of sense." Lucia thoughtfully considered the now sleeping child. Her color was better, her breathing deep and even. She tenderly moved a lock of hair out of her face, tucked behind her adorably oversized ears. She figured half the grownups would probably cry the day she actually grew into them.

"Thank you. Occasionally I do," he sighed, more than a little fed up with this madhouse.

"You did a good thing, and it's appreciated." Lucia considered him from suspiciously puckered brows. "Are you going to get cranky again if I smile at you or try to be nice now?"

"I'm not cranky!" he protested.

Lucia raised one brow, a half smile pulling at her mouth. "No, not a bit, the soul of joy you are." She let her face settle before he could really get started. "But really, you did good. Thank you." Without looking at him again, she got back in her bed, burrowing under the covers. "Frankie, you can probably get in your bed now."

"But I'm not sleepy. I tried." Frankie hadn't budged from his spot on Murril's bed.

"Want Demeus to help you sleep, too?"

Frankie looked up at him with big eyes and a woeful expression. "You wouldn't really, would you?"

"Er…no?" He would, if expressly ordered to, but he doubted anyone here would think to do so. "If you want to sleep, I could."

"Why can't I stay here and watch Murril, huh?" Frankie demanded of Lucia. "Who said I had to be in my bed?"

"I believe that was the Mommas and the Poppas. The sooner you get in bed and go to sleep, the sooner you can take it up with them in the morning. Murril's sleeping, and we're all here. You won't be abandoning her if you Go. To. Bed." Lucia grumbled, already buried in her covers.

Frankie looked down at the sleeping Murril, then over at the covered Lucia, and finally turned to Demeus. "I don't wanna go back to sleep, I'm all itchy feeling and

stuff."

"I don't really care if you go to your bed or not," Demeus shrugged. "Probably best if you lay down if you want to keep watch over Murril, though. All your shifting about might wake her up anyway. Just keep still if you keep watch, alright?"

"Oh, I didn't think about that." Frankie laid down next to Murril, turning so he could watch her sleep. "You think she'll be okay now?"

"Okay might be a stretch, but hopefully she'll wake up what passes for normal. With any luck she'll have forgotten what fun siccing  _that thing_  on me is," he flicked his fingers at Sparkles.

"You make funny faces when she does it. If you could stop that, she'd probably quit, too. She likes you."

"Then I'd really better make sure she never dislikes me," Demeus rolled his eyes.

Frankie yawned. "Hey, Demeus? Know any good stories? I'm bored."

"Nope. Thalmor frown on bedtime stories. Make one up and yammer it at me in the morning," he said, turning to go.

"Once upon a time, there was a brave— _yawn—_ knight named Demeus, and he was called upon to help break the princess out of a nasty— _yawn—_ spell. He searched high and low, until he found a magic flower— _yawn_ —and brought it to the castle for the— _yawn—_ princess." Frankie's eyes drooped closed, and was out like a light.

"That's two good things," Lucia piped from her bed.

Exasperated (and secretly thinking the Demeus in Frankie's story was short sighted and should probably have just taken a cutting from the root of the flower to make more flowers with if it was that useful), he carefully packed away his potions and poisons. "Don't tell."

"Bribe me."

He stopped and stared at her in complete astonishment for a moment before smothering laughter behind his hand. "What do you want?"

Lucia sat up, tilting her head, while she considered. "Good question. I'll keep your secret for a day while I think on it. Deal?"

"Deal," he shook his head, surprised and not bothering to hide it in the least. Daughter of a Daedra, indeed.

"Y'know, you have a nice laugh. I wouldn't mind hearing it more often," Lucia yawned. "And I'm going to sleep. Apparently, there's no filter right now between mouth and mind, and I'll not give you any blackmail material if I can help it." She yawned again.

"Bit too late for that. Goodnight," he said, slipping into the hall.

"Sweet dreams, Demeus."

Closing the door after giving her a rather ironic salute, he stopped dead to see Heron leaning against the wall watching him, that fox at his feet, making a sound that could only be described as a snicker. "What?"

"Nothing. You just finally showed you have more personality than your average sour orange," the Nord shrugged.

"Go swim with slaughterfish," the Redguard grumbled, flushing as he walked passed.

"Nah. Things are far too interesting around here," Heron said, following him back to their room. "And when Telki drags that mage home, they'll get even more interesting."

"I'm sure."

"Still planning on leaving?" the boy pried, going over to his bed and waiting a moment as the fox jumped up, watching it ruefully.

"The moment I can," Demeus affirmed, putting his pack away. "These people drive me insane. They have an Oblivion Gate in a downstairs closet. Who does that?"

"I'm pretty sure half the Thalmor lords would have a door to the Soul Cairn if they could. They'd head in for a chat with the Ideal Masters every morning after breakfast."

"Very funny."

"Wasn't really joking."

"Whatever," the Redguard grumbled, shucking off his boots and changing swiftly into the nightshirt left out for him. "If I see you again after all this, I'm hitting that pretty face of yours."

"Oh, good. I hate being the ass that throws the first punch. Pleasant dreams."

**.**

* * *

**.**

Watery morning light filtered in the high window of Galmar's room, playing softly over wild curls spread over his arm and pillow. Galmar simply laid there, watching her sleep, astounded she was there at all with him. She was spirited, intelligent, she was everything he'd ever been looking for, and wonder of wonders, she'd wanted him as much as he did her. Choosing her was child's play, choosing him was a damned miracle, and he knew it. After how well the previous afternoon and evening had gone, given half a chance, he'd happily spend the rest of his days showing her.

Stormy grey eyes popped open and she cursed. "I'm late," she said, brain going from sleeping to waking in an instant.

"Empire's slow, you've two good hours yet to dawn in Cyrodiil," Galmar rumbled, pulling her delightfully plump form onto his chest and kissing her thoroughly. "Good morning."

"It is now," she smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Even if I do have to visit a few Imperial toadies later. At least I'm dropping a Khajiit on one that deserves it."

Galmar laughed. "Dropping a Khajiit, eh? Are you sure there's any poor sod that deserves that level of punishment?"

"I am in charge of half these idiots' dirty secrets, and it's not even in my job description—my official one, anyway. Yes, I am absolutely sure. I'd drop a caravan of Senche-raht on him if I could, after rubbing him with catnip and filling his pockets with cubes of moonsugar." She rolled her eyes.

Galmar grunted as he thought on that. "You have my axe if you want it. Sometimes, the quickest way's the best way. Out of your hair and your mind."

"Your axe isn't really what I'm interested in, but I'll keep that in mind," she teased, idly combing her fingers through his hair. Galmar closed his eyes and rumbled his pleasure at her ministrations. "Too bad I have to go back, really," she muttered, pillowing her chin on her hand so it wasn't resting directly on his breastbone.

"Then don't. There's plenty here we could use your talents for, and let Shell's sewer rats endanger themselves to learn what those milk drinkers are up to."

"Sadly, I am useful there, and still active as a Young One. Though if Talon really does off my handler, I'm taking a few days off," she grumbled. "My last few days off, one of the other clerks got sick. Not even legitimately; they ate some of the poison cheese the overseer puts out because he won't get cats!"

Galmar grunted, his arms tightening around her. "Now tell me the real reason you won't stay here. Does it have anything to do with why you're scared for me to use your name in bed?"

She sighed. "I'm not 'scared' I just don't like it. It's my cover name, not a Name, and it…I just don't like it. It's not me."

Snorting, Galmar rolled, so that he was looming over her and she had nowhere to look but at him. "An ill fitting name someone else picked for you? So? I can't imagine something as paltry as that is stopping someone as indomitable as you. Pick a name that does suit you, and I will worship you with it." Galmar illustrated his meaning by peppering kisses from collarbone to jawline in a nipping, teasing, and arousing line.

"If your aim is that neither of us get to work today, then by all means, keep going," she said breathlessly, more than half hoping he would and knowing for sure she shouldn't.

"Ulfric owes me a few days off. Talos knows I've earned them keeping his sorry hide this side of Sovngarde. Sounds like that mealworm more than owes you, too." Galmar moved his assault below her collarbones, paying proper homage to the twin peaks of desire.

Groaning a little, she pushed up, rolling them over so she could think as she pinned him down by the shoulders—not that he couldn't move if he wanted too. "Assassins. Intrigue. Time limit. Ringing any bells?" she gasped out.

"Can't say they do. Rather hard to think right now." Galmar's hands had gone straight for her hips when she rolled them over, and he was now industriously rubbing her against his growing infatuation.

Blythe had to close her eyes for a moment, biting her lip. "You know what? Breakfast is an overrated meal, anyway."

"So glad you see it my way." Galmar rolled her over with a growl and proceeded to show her exactly what a devoted worshipper looked like.

**.**

* * *

  **.**

Erandur had to admit he was mildly concerned. Mara was laughing. She was practically howling with good cheer, so loudly he wondered that nobody else seemed to hear it. While she'd been much more vocal towards him since the raids of the Soul Cairn started—unusually so, some discreet questions revealed—this was beyond even what he was starting to consider normal.

"Everything alright, Priest?" the guard beside him asked.

"If cackling Aedra mean everything's alright, then yes. If not, then no." Erandur enjoyed the twitching face for a moment before moving on towards the door, hipchecking it open, as seemed to be the new custom. The Palace of Kings was a rabbit warren in a previous incarnation, Erandur was sure of it, but even so, he found Galmar's quarters with little fuss, and knocked on the door.

"Good morning," Bjartr said politely, nearly materializing in the open door to look up at the Dunmer. "Can I help you?"

"Ah, yes, tell me, is there a guest here? I would escort her home, if she is." Erandur looked about, fully expecting to see a huffy Blythe tapping her foot telling him he was late.

The wide grin the boy gave him was far too knowing on his young face. "They started kissing again and he pulled her back in the bedroom."

Erandur held his head in both hands, but even that was not enough to stifle the headache or the laughing that just got louder. So that was what she was on about.

"Do you want some breakfast? They shouldn't be much longer. She called him 'oaf.'" Lowering his voice, he whispered, "It's affectionate, though."

"Thank you, Bjartr, that would be welcome." Erandur decided he probably needed to mention Skyrim courting rituals on their walk back to Hjerim. The applause in the back of his head, along with the quieted laughter and warm glow of approval, quickly clued him to the cause of Mara's mirth. Apparently, the Aedra of Love was racking up converts left, right, and center.

"So, are you bringing him one?" the boy asked, hopping onto his chair and going right for a plate of ham slices. Unlike most of the other children, he enjoyed food more than dessert.

"Bringing? Bringing who what?" Erandur was lost.

"Papa. Are you bringing him an Amulet?" he asked. "I want her to stay, and he obviously does, too. I was hoping you'd brought one with you."

Erandur chuckled. "I will bring him one today, though I didn't know when I set out this morning he would need one so soon."

The amused arched eyebrow was so eloquent it might have belonged to an Imperial. Since Bjartr was specifically bred so that his race was ambiguous, that was quite telling. "I've never seen his teeth so much, and she was super cranky until they started spending time together."

"That certainly sounds like a Mara's Match, doesn't it?" Erandur observed with a broad smile. "I suppose I should make sure she knows what that Amulet means, then, for when she sees it."

"Probably a good idea. I had no idea what it was until the guards were elbowing each other and snickering about it," he nodded. He was very good at learning things from guards. Unfortunately for the guards, they seldom realized he was there before they said something they wouldn't want him to hear, if they noticed him at all.

The door to one of the bedrooms opened before he could respond, revealing Galmar still adjusting his belt. He hadn't managed to find a shirt yet, but the bear hat was already in place. "Ah, Erandur, come to walk our girl home, then?"

"Oh, it's you," Blythe added, peeking around Galmar's muscled form while trying to tame her hair.

"Ah, yes?" Erandur decided that worked as an appropriate answer to both questions.

"Good, wanted to see you about an Amulet, anyway."

"I'll have one for you by this evening."

"You're wearing jewelry now?" Blythe asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or is it for Helgrid?"

"I have a very manly neck, thought the right amulet might show it off better. And leave Helgrid out of it." Galmar winked at her and spun her around, kissing her one more time for good measure. Her hair puffed out as she lost her grip on it and unwound from the half braid she'd wrestled it into with an almost gleeful bounce. She didn't seem to mind overmuch.

"See?" Bjartr said to Erandur, grinning from ear to ear.

"I do, indeed." Erandur was studying them with a priest's eyes, and he liked what he saw. "I'll definitely be having a talk with the both of them, rest assured, young Bjartr."

"Sure you don't want me to Heal these up?" she asked, running her fingertips over the marks she left, "They're obscuring your 'manly neck.'"

"How else am I to teach the young bucks the proper way to treat a woman, if you do?" Galmar puffed his chest out. "And personally, I think they show it off to perfection."

"Awww, you're sweet," she wrinkled her pert nose at him.

"You're perfect." Galmar said it lowly, just for her ears, as he pulled her close again. "Never let anyone tell you different. I'll be happy to gut them for you, if they do."

"Perfectly capable of doing my own gutting," she assured him, but her gaze was warm and soft in a way she seldom showed anyone. Her quartermaster supervisor would have had a stroke to see it.

"Aye, I know, thought you might share the fun." Galmar hugged her close, and then reluctantly let her go. "Go on, then. You'll be late as it is, any longer here, and I'll keep you the whole day."

"Might push my handler off a building myself," she grumbled, catching the roll Bjartr tossed her with a wink.

"See? Already planning on fun without me."

"Oh, knowing my luck, he'd live, then I'd have him chase me all the way here," she laughed, reached down and pinched his butt, then headed for the door. "Coming, Priest?"

"But of course," Erandur was at her side, proffering a gentlemanly elbow in a trice, nodding to Galmar. "I promise to see you safely to your destination."

"Strange, I was about to say the same thing to you," she sassed, taking his arm anyway. It wasn't often she was treated as a lady.

"You might be more skilled, but I do have a hometown advantage." Erandur's eyes twinkled in good humor. "Let's promise to keep each other safe, then, eh?" With a final goodbye to both Bjartr and Galmar, Erandur finally escorted Blythe out.

Once safely down the hall, Erandur could ask a most important question. "Tell me, Blythe, what do you know of courting customs in Skyrim?"

"Not a damned thing, why?" she asked, giving him a wary look.

"There is a reason Galmar was asking me for an Amulet." Erandur quieted as they passed another guard, and continued once he was safely out of earshot. "Nords do not mince around with marriage. They don an Amulet of Mara when they wish to ask a person to marry, so that the person knows they are willing, and the next stop is a Priest to make it official."

She considered that for a long moment. "I won't even tell the man my name and he wants to marry me?"

Erandur shook his head. "Young Ones seem to be rather hung up on names, and that is solely the doing of the Thalmor. He doesn't need to know your name, Blythe, he knows  _you_. You are what's special, not a label someone slapped on you."

She gave him a considering look. "Do priests in Skyrim have to keep what they're told secret?"

"If you need such a secret kept, then I will keep it," Erandur promised her sincerely.

"I have a name. My name. I wasn't born a Young One, and I had a life before all of it. It's not a label, it's who I am."

Erandur hummed as he considered her words. "Have you made contact with anyone from that life?" He was probably the only priest singularly able to counsel her on this, and wondered if she knew.

"No, they all think I'm dead. I'd prefer it that way, honestly."

"Why do you think that's the proper course?" Erandur was honestly curious. "If they are who gave you the strength and courage to keep your identity despite the worst the Thalmor could do, I imagine they are the sort who would cherish having you back."

"How would a pair of Vigilants feel about their child returning a vampire?" she asked, a bit scathingly.

"Ah, but you're not a vampire, you're killing the Thalmor from the inside out, aren't you? I'm also going to assume from that little comparison, that your parents are of the Thalmor hunting persuasion? It seems to me what you're doing would be a point of pride, not sorrow."

"See, everyone keeps saying that! And…it's honestly making me wonder, but I'm still not sure enough to risk it." She sighed, "I'm not sure I want to start a new life just yet while my old one hovers over my head like this."

Erandur patted her arm, and quietly thought her words over for a few steps. "Galmar will be wearing that Amulet the next time you see him, most likely. I think you owe it to yourself, and to your family, to settle the question one way or another. I think the Thalmor have taken enough from you. Don't let them have your future happiness, too."

"How do Nords feel about engagements longer than it would take to fetch the priest?" she finally asked, breath huffing out whitely in the cold air as they made their way through the street.

Erandur chuckled darkly. "Does Galmar strike you as the patient sort?" He studied her with thoughtful consideration. "Though I've never seen him as taken with anyone as he is with you. You might talk the old bear into it."

"Kind of odd, really," she admitted. "No one's ever taken such an interest in me before. I even let him tie me up. That never happens."

Erandur closed his eyes against the unbidden image. That was more than he ever needed to know. "I never thought to find myself married, much less to multiples. It's surprising, sometimes, the things life has in store for us. Thankfully, some of them are pleasant, welcome surprises."

"If I tell my father I'm alive, I have to tell him my sisters aren't," she said suddenly. "What if that's like losing them all over again?"

"Having one daughter back from the dead would be worth it, I think." Erandur patted her arm again. "And if you need emotional support to see it done, I'll happily stand with you."

"You might have to stand with him. He's not as young as he used to be," there was a note of real worry in her voice.

"I'll be there to catch whichever of you falls over first," Erandur promised. "Won't be the first time I've caught two in a faint, but that's a story for another time."

"I won't faint," she laughed. "Even if I did, I'd much rather swoon into that bear-hat-loving maniac's arms. No offense."

"None taken. Would having him there make it easier, do you think?"

"I honestly don't know and I'm a big enough girl to admit I'm terrified," she replied baldly.

"Talk to Galmar, and if you want me there for the conversation with your father, I'll be happy to be there for you or him or both."

"Oh, good. If I recall correctly, he was rather good at fireballs. Known for them, actually. I believe Dunmer are resistant?"

Erandur laughed. "Yes, Dunmer are resistant. It appears living near Red Mountain for ages was actually good for something."

"Besides grump and snark. Good to know." Handing him her bag, she roughly coiled her hair at the base of her neck, wrapping it with a leather thong and pinning it tightly. "I suppose it's too much to hope that the children are not awake, screaming conversations at the top of their lungs, and are all going to want to say hello?" If she ran, she might just make it before her supervisor arrived. That possibility went out the window with twenty minute hellos.

"Oh, at least two of them are up doing chores. The rest are probably still abed, unless something woke them. Should I have a Calm spell at the ready?"

"Yes, but for my hair. Who knows, it might actually work," she glanced up as a curl bounced out of the coiled mass to fall over her forehead.

Erandur chuckled, and called a Calm spell to his palm, and smoothed it over her rambunctious curls. "How's that?"

"I think it made it mad. Oh, wait. Just wind," she chuckled, then waited for him to get the gate. Erandur handily opened said gate, and escorted her through.

The familiar smells of breakfast filled the air from the kitchen, where Telki was laying out a proper spread. There were seedcakes and flapjacks for those that wanted more than bacon and eggs, though there was enough of that on the table to feed a squadron.

"I might drag Galmar and Bjartr over here next time," she muttered, observing this. "If I'm not careful, I'm going to give myself away by getting fat."

Erandur smiled widely at her. "I don't think you're in any danger there, not with the exercise you've been getting lately."

"One of these days I will play dirty and win the wrestling match for who gets to wear the hat," she said easily, just to make him uncomfortable.

"If ever he emerges without his dearest Helgrid, I will know that you have succeeded in your endeavors." Erandur was as cool as a frost atronach, though the crinkle around his eyes gave the lie away.

A loud bang sounded through the house, making even Blythe jump. Wailing started a moment later, followed by more calamitous noises of someone throwing things around. A golden striped blur whipped from the kitchen to Murril in the portal room, where she quickly wrapped herself around her daughter, stilling her hands and feet so that she couldn't hurt herself or others, all while humming a Calming spell.

The wailing didn't stop, but she stilled, wrapping her thin arms around Telki and burying her face in her shoulder, messy hair laying like a lank blanket over her back. She still had a piece of jagged wood in her hand, not seeming to notice the splinters. It had a bit of hinge hanging off it.

Still humming, Telki looked around at the damage. The once-secret room that had homed the portal to the Shivering Isles was filled with pieces of wood, none longer than a dagger. The wardrobe was unuseable, the frame completely demolished and warped, as if someone had taken a warhammer to it just as it was exploding, then broke the rest for good measure. Green light still flickered over the metal pieces, and odd things were happening to the wooden ones. Some were sprouting, while others seemed to have turned to stone.

"What in Oblivion happened in here?" Blythe asked from the doorway, staring.

"A portal to the Shivering Isles exploded." Telki looked at the wreckage. "Luckily, it's not my only way in." Stroking Murril's hair, she spoke softly in her ear. "I promised you I was going to get Rommy today, and I meant it. I just have to figure out how to use the Wabbajack to do it."

Murril hiccuped and sniffed, burrowing into Telki like she wanted to escape into her pocket. Queen would make it better, but it still wasn't good now.

"Er…she's bleeding," Blythe pointed out uncomfortably. This was far beyond her limited ability with children or mad people.

"Oh Murril, here, let me see, sweetling." Telki gently turned the poor child's palm over, taking in the nasty cut full of splinters. "Here, let me hold your hinge for you, okay? I'll give it back once I've got these nasty splinters out." Telki gently pried it loose, and then, with the familiar golden glow about her hands, soothing the pain and inflammation setting in, steadily removing splinters as she went, all while humming to keep Murril Calmed.

The girl simply sat through this and sobbed quietly, staring at Telki with beseeching eyes, begging her to make it better. She didn't care about her hands very much, she wanted the door fixed. She wanted to go home and show Daddy her new little friend, and her new bigger friend's butterfly illusions, and the Pretty Boy that called her pretty, and the Grumpy One with a Funny Head.

"There, now, you hold on to this for me, and help me get the Wabbajack, shall we?" Telki hefted the girl onto her hip, heading to the stairs that lead up to the attic. The attic was cold enough even Blaise wouldn't stick his nose up there. Hence the perfect place to store an object to keep away from Trouble.

Murril wiggled, sensing Daddy magic and pointing imperiously at the chest, staring up at Telki. Sparkles danced around it before coming to rest by Telki's feet, giving off small sparks that caused static in the nearby linens.

Telki gently stepped around the whirling mininach and opened the complicated series of locks on the chest, one of the few she'd figured would slow Blaise down, if not confound him. Gently, she opened it and pulled the Wabbajack from its hidden nest, contemplating the smooth wood finish and the three widemouthed faces adorning the top. "Let's see if I can figure out how to use you to retrieve a fiancé, shall we?"


	31. Come What Come May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon decides Nala needs to know some things about his life. Meanwhile, Telki is working on getting to the Shivering Isles the conventional way.

The morning light streamed in through the window, sometimes giving way to shadows as clouds moved across the face of the sun. Talon watched them idly every so often, whenever he looked up from admiring Nala, who was still fast asleep and slightly glowing gold where he'd traced patterns onto her skin in Restoration. They'd remain until one of them removed them. He wasn't likely to anytime soon.

Lightly, he reached over and slid some strands of her snowy hair from where they'd fallen over her face, smiling a little when she murmured at his hand grazing her cheek. Even asleep she was fairly responsive. He wondered a bit at the foolishness of the previous lovers she had mentioned, to have used her and thrown her away so quickly. The smile grew slightly as he wondered if she'd just proven too much for them. He could certainly see why Sanguine had taken an interest, even if he did want to throw the Daedra into Red Mountain—or at least a vat of Sober Mead.

Leaning over slightly, he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, which made her promptly roll over back onto his arm, snuggling into his warm side. Her tail was moving languidly, curling and uncurling at the tip. She couldn't be too far from waking. He had even managed to doze off for a while, some time around dawn after Flavianus and Mittens had peeked in, the man holding up a breakfast tray with a little smile on his face. Talon figured a Sanguinist had seen it all and accepted the tray, relaxing a bit when he realised that the would-be Khajiit was on watch, and even more so when he realized the cat was. They weren't exactly the best lookouts, but the house had been built with more than muffling noise in mind, it had been infused with spells and runes against anyone not specifically invited, and the man was more than able to set off those defenses.

Nala allowed herself a luxuriant stretch. She was warm, comfortable, and apparently not hungover. She still felt cocooned in the most glorious of dreams, up to and including feeling Talon's warmth beside her. When the sensation didn't fade as it usually did upon waking, she jolted in place, slowly opening eyes to the most glorious sight on Nirn: Talon in her bed, looking at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"Notadream?" She would never admit just how squeaky her voice was at that moment.

He tilted her chin up and smiled slightly against her lips, "Not a dream," he confirmed, kissing her softly. Squeaking and purring by turns, Nala launched herself further into his arms, returning his kiss with enthusiasm, and latching onto him in a full body hug. Holding her a moment, amused, he finally pulled back and tucked her stray hair behind her ears. "We should eat before…anything," he advised. Anu, but she looked thoroughly ravished and entirely happy. He rather liked what it did to him.

"But I'm having breakfast," Nala was contentedly nibbling along his neck. The mer smelled like her version of heaven, tasted like love, and she didn't want to stop, ever.

"You have been using a lot of magic, completely aside from the physical aspects," he said sternly, fingers tracing down her arm before gently pushing her away. "You need to eat before you grow faint."

"You mean I can't get you to tote me around?" Nala smiled at him, content with the world for the moment. "I hear it's the latest thing?"

"If you neglect yourself just to have me carry you we're going to have stern words," he warned. "It's late morning in Windhelm," he reminded her, sitting them both up, "The others will be here shortly. I'd prefer to be dressed when they do."

As if the words set off some imp of irony, they heard light footsteps pattering rapidly down the hall toward them, just enough time for Talon to whisk the sheets over them, as Ama was practically running down the hallway, chanting her sister's name.

"Nala! Nalanalanala Nala! You'll never guess…. _woah nelly!"_ Ama skidded into the room, taking in the disheveled appearance of both parties, and the very protective way Nala was shielding Talon behind her, who had an equally protective arm around her middle.

She blinked; once, twice, but what she was seeing didn't change. Gathering her scattered wits, she straightened and reminded herself firmly not to stare. "Right, mental note to self: knock first from now on. Okie dokies, um, care to join the rest of the family for the planning session underway downstairs? Right? Right, I'll show myself out and um, leave you two to it." There was no disguising the happy bounce in her step as she let herself out, or the wide grin wreathing her face. It was clear Talon would receive no problems from that sister; she looked like the cat that'd gotten the canary, though he wondered who would be the unlucky recipient of the mischief her eyes promised. He hoped she wasn't merely saving it for when they managed to get downstairs.

"I assume by the time we're dressed, everyone will know?" he glanced down at the woman held against his chest wryly.

"Hard to say." Nala was twisting a white lock in thought, eyes pensive as she studied the door her sister just existed. "Ama's a hard one to gauge. I mean, she still hasn't admitted where she got her training, though everyone she ever met knows details of our childhood I'd be ashamed to admit. She knows how important you are to me."

Lifting one hand up, he kissed the back of it, "Been talking about me, have you?"

"You kinda made it hard not to, once you told them my knees went out on you." Nala's mouth twisted wryly. "It was either make it clear to them this was a situation where their help wasn't welcome, or watch their well-intentioned matchmaking endeavors backfire spectacularly."

"If it makes you feel any better," he said after a moment of thought, "The other former Young Ones were plotting as well." Anu only knows what some of them had thought up. Shell at least had probably wanted to lock them in a closet together. He thought of the Rare Book Room at the mage school and inwardly shook his head.

"Whaaat?" Nala's jaw dropped, and then the silly giggles started. "Details, I must have details!"

"They were more circumspect about it—for now—but Blythe met me on the roof last night and nagged me about denying my own happiness." He winced, "Not a conversation I ever expected to have to put up with."

"Big scary Young Ones, matchmakers at heart. Who'd have ever guessed? I shudder to think what Telki would have done if I hadn't told them 'no.'"

"I'd rather not think about it," he confessed, sliding off the bed and holding out a hand for her.

Nala heaved a heavy sigh. "Sure I can't take the Talon express carriage down to breakfast? Shell and Telki make it look so fun. And snuggly. It would save time explaining." She wrinkled her nose at him. "No, sorry, that whole 'no snuggling in front of people' is going to take work." She shook a finger at him as she slithered out of bed. "I will require many private snuggle breaks, you know."

Admiring her a moment, he said, "I take it you have no objection then to me moving my things into this room with yours?"

The warm smile she gave him eclipsed the sunrise. "None. In fact, consider me insisting. And I want a map of all spots you consider private enough I can haul you into when I get insecure and need a snuggle moment."

"I'll start taking inventory of them," Talon pulled her to him, holding her for a moment more before clothes and old habits got in the way. He knew it bothered her—would probably even hurt her a time or two—but he'd lived too long unable to show he cared for something for the ingrained caution to disappear overnight. Telki was one thing—she did that to everyone—but should anyone report seeing such behavior with Nala, it would be all too clear that he'd taken a lover. Sooner or later it would come out, but until then he needed some time to plan.

"Hmmm." Nala buried her face in his chest. "Precisely what is it that makes you smell so good?" She happily wrapped both arms tightly about his middle, her tail tip twitching in languid arcs behind her as she breathed him in deeply.

"Soap is still my only conceivable answer," he replied, amused. Just to make her happy, he lifted her up and carried her to the small table, setting her lightly on one of the chairs. "First my hair and now my scent; you have the oddest preoccupations," he said, still more amused than anything as he neatly divided the breakfast portions for them, putting the roasted nut porridge entirely in front of her and drizzling honey over it. He didn't know if she'd had it before, but it was close enough to her favorite treat for him to know she'd like it.

"That smells divine. I hereby name you breakfast fixer henceforth." Nala dabbed the honey drizzler in the air in the general direction of his shoulders, as if knighting him by Imperial rules, carefully turning the little wooden dowel so as to not waste the precious golden treat during her little pantomime.

"Our host provided this," he informed her, considering more than just his breakfast as he examined his plate.

"Yes, but I'm quite sure you fixing it for me made it even better."

He chuckled, reaching out and pushing her hair back again before it fell into the porridge. "Will your head be in the clouds all day? When can I expect you back down here with me?" he teased lightly.

"You're welcome to hold me down here with you. I have absolutely no qualms about that." Nala smiled brightly at him, though it faded a bit when she noticed his muted reaction. "Is something wrong?" Nala abandoned her porridge for his lap immediately.

Wrapping his arms about her waist, he laid his head against the top of hers and sighed. "There are some things I should probably tell you, but I am hesitant to ask you to keep some things from the others, especially your sisters."

"You think I told any of them about what Sam finagled?" Nala snorted. "Tell me when you're ready, as long as it's not likely to bite me beforehand. Deal?"

"I have no idea if they'll even come up," he confessed, "But I do not wish to keep them from you. The other Young Ones already know; you should as well, if you wish to be with me."

Nala tugged his arms tightly around her, snuggling tightly against his body. "Tell me when you are ready, and I'll listen."

He paused, weighing his words. "You already know the Thalmor want me back, badly enough they are simply inviting me, without fear or threat of reprisal. There is a reward for bringing me back, though they'd prefer me willingly."

Nala rocked Talon gently. "You said they killed your last non-mer lover. Can you trust their word?"

Shaking his head, he told her, "I never intend to go back, but I do not want what they're offering me to be a shock at the wrong time." Taking a breath, he finished, "They're offering me lordship. Acceptance as a full Altmer, training troops or Young Ones however I wish, and Faloniril's estate when Lirianni dies."

Nala scrunched her brows. "Um, Lirianni's estate, shouldn't that be hers to dispose of as she sees fit? Why would they think you'd want that place?"

"Liranni has no heirs—not ones they accept, anyway, and she is old and somewhat scattered. They probably believe she will not last more than a few decades. As for the rest…Young Ones work their entire career to even have Names, to be placed on the rolls of the dead when they die and avoid the Soul Cairn. Being adopted into the Household is the ultimate reward dangled above all of us; acceptance and some semblance of normalcy, some control over our fate and perhaps those of our friends or comrades if we're lucky. Being adopted into the Families themselves…only one has ever done it."

Nala heard the hesitation in his voice. "Is one of the things you need to tell me related to that?"

"I have a son."

Nala digested that a moment. Two and two usually made four, and if any Young One would make Lord, if not Talon, then one of Talon's abilities. "Is he safe?"

"As far as I know," he sighed again, eyes tightly closed. That rather cinched it, didn't it? How else would a Young One be safe, but as a Lord?

"Talon, what do you want to do? Do you want to know for sure he's safe? Do you want to get him out of the Thalmor's grip? Do you want to leave him there if he's safe and happy? I am here for you, and you having a son isn't going to change that. It'd be damned presumptuous of me to expect you to have put your life on complete hold for me  _before you even knew me_ , and that's without the extra hell being a Young One put on you."

"His mother refused to bring him here, though Shell did go to her with an invitation," he smirked sardonically, "Must have been an interesting meeting, those two."

Nala eyed Talon speculatively and borrowed one of Ama's favorite phrases, "Am I gonna have to smack a bitch?"

A laugh escaped him involuntarily. "I cannot blame her overmuch. He has no idea of his heritage, and she and I…never actually got on. Despised each other, really."

"I'm going to light her up, first cruel word she says to you or about you, especially in front of Wee Bit."

"I have not seen him since he was very small, but he is an adolescent. I do not think he would appreciate being referred to as 'Wee Bit.'" There was definite humor in his voice now.

"So, what's his name, or do I get to call him 'Junior?'"

Drawing back slightly so he could examine her face, taking in the gorgeous blue of her eyes, he finally said, "Learen."

"Learen." Nala tried it on her tongue. "I like it. It's a lyrical but sensible name. Probably will still shorten it to 'Lear,' though."

"Everyone does," he revealed, finally feeling relaxed enough again to start back in on his breakfast, still keeping one arm around her, fingers idly stroking along her hipbone.

Rather than leave his lap, Nala simply teked her bowl over to resume her own meal. "Still the breakfast fixer, y'know. This is sheer delight."

"I cannot stress enough how much I do not want what I just told you to become common knowledge," he said, glancing down at her.

"Talon, I asked you a very important question: what do you want to happen? Because that's what I want you to have, and what I'll use every bit of my imagination, skill, and resources to make happen."

"I am unsure," he admitted. "I cannot say his life would be better knowing about me, and it very well may put him in danger if he decides to come here on his own. The Thalmor are not liked in the Empire, with good reason, and few would take the time to distinguish between a young lord that happens to be Altmer from a Thalmor one. He may be better off not knowing, and happier for it."

Nala's thoughts were whizzing, but the sort that usually lead to useful solutions. "So, the biggest hurdle is the not knowing. So, we need information on his current situation. Yes? If he's not happy, we give him options. It's not like there's no Altmer here already, so being Altmer isn't going to be the problem, it's the Thalmor trappings we'd have to be leery about. Yes? No?"

"He is well enough for now," Talon said after another moment's deliberation. "It can wait, and we can discover what we can in the meantime."

"Did I just hear something resembling putting your needs and wants on hold? That's over and done. You're not a Young One, you're ours. That makes your wants and needs as important as anyone else's, so, precisely why not send someone to scout the situation now?"

"This family is terrible at organizing its priorities," he informed her, but a smile still lurked around his eyes as he gazed down at her. "I'm still unsure what I want to happen, so there is no need. I have talked to Shell about what she observed when she went to that estate. Apparently he flirted with her; 'Gallantly,' she said. Anu only knows what she meant by that."

"Next time, have her put it on a scale of Heron to Gideon." Nala smiled up at him. It was a good thing he was holding her on his lap, those smile crinkles were a deadly weapon.

"Enough to amuse and charm, not enough to insult," he paused, something obviously occurring to him. "Though what I should make of my son being able to charm Shell of all people I don't really want to speculate."

"That's why I used Gideon. He charmed Shell with zero courtesan training, remember?"

"Considering who his mother is, he probably got the lessons without training," Talon revealed, slight distaste in his expression. Nala sighed, and wrapped his arms around her.

"What drew your attention to me? What about me 'charmed' you?" Nala laid her head back to stare up at her golden man. "I can guarantee you it wasn't anything smooth, practiced, or remotely graceful."

The glance he gave her was quizzical. "You are very graceful," he said, then decided to elaborate. "I enjoy watching you move. Your hands especially, when you work magic. It's a bit like watching the hand dancing some Breton families do. Your expression is so focused, though, where theirs is coy. I like the way you look when you concentrate, and how you light up when you're working on a particularly intriguing bit of magic. I enjoy magic, but it hasn't been…well, magical, rather than technical for me for a long time. I feel that again when I'm around you."

Nala's eyes were wide and close to tearing up. Nobody had ever talked to her like that, and the feelings it caused were almost too much to hold. She could feel her eyes stinging and blinked to try to clear them. "The way you talk, you make me sound…amazing, and that can't be right, 'cause you're the amazing one."

There was no hiding the warmth in his golden eyes when he kissed her softly. "I am well trained; you are brilliant. You are inquisitive. You are kind in a world that tries to make us otherwise. I admire you for that."

"And how you managed to remain humble after all you've accomplished and all you've survived, only makes me love and admire you more." Nala shook her head, "And you totally sidetracked me! I was trying to make a point!" Nala huffed up into his good humor. "I just don't see Young Ones with any training at all in the arts falling for the tricks of another. Heron would be wary of Fey and Shell, and you all saw through poor Heron like he was glass, but Shell was taken in by Gideon because he meant it, he was artless about it, and that's what'd it'd take to 'charm' Shell; not the practiced, too smooth moves of the trained, but artless sincerity."

He tilted his head, considering this. "Artless sincerity?" he repeated, then shook his head in vague disbelief, "Considering where and what he is, I almost hope not, but he is young, yet."

Nala lightly tapped his nose. "Stranger things have happened, like a two hundred year old Young One able to sneak a cull past Ill Minion's nose."

"I see someone has been exaggerating my role in their stories," he sighed and shook his head slightly, unused to the sensation of his hair against his shoulders, "I never did that. I simply pointed that madman in other directions while others did what they needed."

"If you try to tell me hiding that black soul gem wasn't just as important, I'll, I'll do something, but no idea what, because  _augh!_  How is it you never see how important you are?"

"I look forward to your attempts to convince me. Now, the others are probably wondering where we are, or—depending on what Ama revealed—if we're coming down at all."

"Not just yet. I'm not through snuggling you and Moons know when you'll let me again," Nala wrapped herself up in his arms, and snuggled in, stealing a few more precious seconds in his arms. Indulging her for a few minutes, he pulled her tighter against him, marveling a little at how much his life had changed. She was still in danger, though, had been before he even met her, and he resolved to remove that danger as thoroughly as possible.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Telki was agitated, and rightly so, but watching her tail lash was making Tyr even more tired that he already was waking up so darn early every morning. Cyrodiil was two hours behind Windhelm, and they'd been coming home late Cyrodiil time. Not to mention going through and putting away all the things Fey'd managed to pick up for the children, and herself, and—Stendarr preserve him—him. Blossom had woken up and shown a complete change of personality by insisting on trying on every single thing  _that moment,_  and had ended up falling back asleep in a pile of colored fabrics. Fey had looked ready to burst, she was so happy. Orien had wrapped himself and Bacon up into their new robes and asked if he really had to wear the shoes.

Pearl had quietly thanked them for the dresses before asking if they'd brought any books. She'd indulged her mother by modeling a few calmly, and then wordlessly moved to help Blossom into the endless parade of esoteric ties and buttons and he'd seen logic puzzles less complicated. He was so thankful for his youngest stepdaughter last night.

"Telki, could you please put that thing down? You're making me nervous," he said, head resting on Fey's shoulder. She, of course, looked perfectly awake and like she'd just come from the hands of half a dozen lady's maids, or whatever they called the woman that spend most of their time making a particular other woman look perfect. "Blaise was full of tales of what that thing did to some poor guard."

"Since the door to the Isles burst, this thing is my only way to retrieve Rommy." Telki gave Tyr an indignant glare, "And I do hope you did not just compare my handling of an Artifact to that of a careless ten year old?"

Dragonborn Emperors did not hide behind their wives from less than five foot cat women, no matter how angry. Just another example, in Tyr's mind, of why he shouldn't be Emperor. "No, ma'am."

"Thank you. Where's Sam when he'd be useful? Maybe if I…but then…how about…ow." Telki rubbed both eyes and ears. Chaos magic did not make for pleasant listening, and she still had starbursts behind her eyes. "You'd a thunk I learned my lesson when dealing with that neccy in Azura's star, sheesh."

Tyr glanced at Fey, who looked as if she were inwardly laughing at him. "Did that make any sense to you?"

Murril, who had not left Telki's side since that morning, wiggled in Erandur's grip, wanting to be let down. Puzzled, Erandur gently lowered her to her feet, and she ran back over to Telki who absently wrapped one arm around the girl, hoisting her to her hip, while still studying the Wabbajack for clues on how to open it. Murril reached out and grabbed it, turning a curtain into a strange chittering thing that hid behind the other curtain.

"Murril, honey, if you want to stay put, you do not do that, or it's back to Poppa 'Randur, understand?" Murril pouted and tried to climb into her pocket. Telki had her hands full. All her attention seemed to be on keeping Murril from nosediving, yet she still seamlessly swung the Wabbajack behind her to backjack the chittering curtain.

"Okay, have you guys been all through this place?" Shell enthused, having decided she could spare a half an hour to poke her head through the portal. "It's huge! And human architecture is so varied!"

"No, I've been rather preoccupied. Some of the others have been out and about, though," Telki muttered at the Wabbajack. "Rommy's overdue, his wardrobe portal exploded, and I have to figure how the deuces this thing is going to get me back to him."

"I don't know why you're so worried about it," Shell confessed, halting to regard Telki keenly. "The moment Merc and Sam get back you can just commandeer him for a ride to Oblivion." She paused, "Only, I wouldn't phrase it like that."

"Look at Murril," Telki sighed. "And Sam's got his own stuff bothering him. I need to be able to do this myself, if for no other reason than to prove to that stubborn turkey I  _can_  help."

Shrugging, she suggested, "Why don't you talk to Blythe when she gets back? She's a Conjuror—she might know a bit more about portals than any of us, and she's supposed to be by to take Ama to play with that Imperial toady."

"Excellent idea. She might. Now, how's my Shell?" Telki made herself set the Wabbajack down in a case, closing and locking it, giving Murril a speaking glance when she did so. Murril interpreted that as "sit down and hug this until I come back," slid down, sat, and wrapped her arms around it. Telki turned her attention to Shell, though half an eye tracked Murril and the case.

"Shell is confused and children are tiring," the Bosmer said, raising a harried hand to her forehead. "And I thought wrangling in a bunch of thieves and spies was difficult. I have half a mind to drop Blaise on Bryn and see who comes out alive."

"Blaise, no contest." Erandur leaned against the back of Telki's chair, wrapping arms around her and kissing her.

"You're probably right," Shell said with a grin, "Bryn's a smooth talker, but Blaise's logic defies Sheogorath."

"Maybe I should have sent Blaise to bring him home. He'd be home two days by now." Telki allowed Erandur to cuddle her, and felt some of her frustration melting. "So, what's the plans for today? How can I make the Elder Council's lives interesting? I owe someone some aggravation, and they're prime targets."

"Well, completely aside from just picking one at random and showing up at his house to ask if he's heard the grand news about…whatever Khajiit that don't follow the Nine, Eight, whatever," Tyr babbled slightly, yawned, then got to the point, "We'll have a target when Ama's done." He glanced around, "Provided she hasn't vanished."

"Who's vanished?" Ama again descended from the balcony, landing lightly on Tyr's shoulder. He grunted slightly but didn't otherwise seem burdened. "Seriously, your shoulder's the perfect landing pad." Ama turned pleading eyes to Fey. "Can we order more?"

"If Blossom persists trying to teach Orien, we may need a few," the woman sighed.

"I make a lovely candidate for babysitter, just saying," Ama beamed, visions of mischief dancing in her eyes.

"You are not teaching them mischief without me along," Shell said sternly, eyes bright with mirth.

"Deal." Ama tilted her head as something finally occurred to her. "Ooh, you and I need to have a little chitchat private-like anyhow. I has messages."

"Eh, good thing you've already made your opinion on girls known, or I'd get my hopes up," Shell teased, giving her a wink.

Ama threw back her head in exaggerated woe. "Oh me, the tribulations of being beautiful and sexy. Whatever shall I do?"

"For one, demand a refund from your drama teacher. That was terrible," Telki dryly commented.

"For two, please dismount my husband before he has an aneurism," Fey requested mildly, taking in Tyr's pink face, which turned bright red under her scrutiny, then pale when he remembered she tended to be the jealous type. Ama didn't mean anything by it—had, in fact, just requested Fey produce more Tyrs into the world—but that didn't stop her from feeling a bit possessive of her endearingly naive husband.

"Whups, sorry. Really, the shoulder's a perfect landing pad, comfy, too. So, uh, Shell? Private convo away from the flustered folks?" Ama quickly dismounted, her own color rising in embarrassment, and settled on a padded bench the other side of Telki and Erandur from Fey and Tyr.

"What do you need?" Shell asked, a bit amused by her mother trying to play nice with other women—historically, they tended not to play nice with her—and wondering if there was a candlemaker nearby she could buy some good, soft candles from, or even finish the setup she'd been collecting to make her own. She still hadn't gotten around to telling anyone about her hobby, and quite frankly, wasn't entirely sure she wanted to.

Ama's hands fluttered in a familiar pattern. Some secrets weren't hers to tell.

Halting and letting her expression slip somewhat in surprise, she signed back in the silent thieves' cant rapidly, some questions about Ama now answered. She wondered how the thieves that had apparently given her training felt about her working as a counter-thief. An alliance of Guilds though…She'd need to talk this over with Bryn and Karliah.

Ama sat there valiantly trying to concentrate on the matter at hand and to not blurt out what was really on her mind. Seeing Nala and Talon together like that had been a shock, in more ways than one. Talon was a seriously impressive man. He was definitely all man. Oh boy, golden skin for days all man. He didn't seem the type to be interested in dating both of a pair of twins, but...Not thinking about it, Ama! How does the sign for 'merger' go again? How could he stand to hide all that fluffy lovely curly hair? It was a crime! And happy face! Seriously, does the thumb go to the outside of the sign, or inside? She was never more relieved to see two people coming down the stairs in her life.

"Nala! Talon! So glad you could join us!" Really glad. She dared to peek across at Shell. She wasn't disappointed. The mer had given up hiding anything and was just staring at the pair, eyes so wide whites showed all round her irises and her mouth parted in shock. Talon gave her a cool look, and her mouth snapped shut with a click of teeth.

"Shell? Are you okay?" Nala glanced nervously between Talon and Shell.

Shell signed something to Talon that Ama could easily read as "Good job; she's glowing." Talon raised an eyebrow slightly, and Shell snickered.

Tyr sat up as he felt Fey stiffen slightly, looking up to see her blink in surprise, a small smile growing at the corners of her mouth. He followed her gaze, wondering what exactly she had noticed, and gave her a questioning look. The warmth in her gaze made him look again, then exclaim silently "oh" when he noticed the way Nala hovered around the other elf, who seemed more…relaxed somehow. As if something inside him had given way. Well. How about that?

Smiling, trying not to show he was doing so, Tyr took her hand and went back to watching Telki fret. Even Murril was distracted, staring at the pair like she couldn't figure something out. Erandur stood behind them, arms folded and a serene but knowing smile lighting his face, while a bit of Mara's aura danced about his eartips. Someone was Very Pleased with things.

That thoroughly distracted Murril. The little girl carefully released the case, standing on a chair next to the Dunmer, trying to grab the shiny things but always coming up empty-handed. Erandur had to duck to avoid getting hit in the face by her waving arms.

Nala wasn't ashamed to admit she was hiding behind Talon. Apparently, every single nosy tosser down there knew exactly what they'd been up to, and her cheeks felt as hot as firebolts. She wasn't exactly sure how to handle that, and she couldn't even cling to Talon because Issues, so she kept him between her and all those nosey eyes, and kept her mouth shut. Where was a good book when you needed one?

"Maybe if I…but then I'd have to…and could I find one to fit in there…" Telki looked up when it finally registered all the background noise she'd been tuning out was gone. She looked about her, and all eyes were on the stairs, so she turned and looked too. It took her a moment as she went from thinking 'activate Wabbajack' to 'process visual cues,' but she did finally get there. She squealed. "Finally! I'm so happy for you! Nala, darlin, why're you hidin' behind Talon?"

"Unlike some people, I do not like being the most interesting thing in the room. Can we please skip the awkward part and go straight into business as usual? Please?" Flavianus hopped into her arms as he came in the room, purring as if to comfort her. Nala cuddled him close, stroking the soft fur and letting him sooth her wracked nerves.

"Oh, these two are up!" Mittens declared loudly as he walked in, sounding delighted and looking so in his new striped suit with its trailing, stuffed tail. "This one did not think we would be seeing you until at least afternoon! You were so busy!" Nala buried her face in Flavianus' soft but somewhat patchy fur. Could it get much worse?

Shell pouted at them, "So Mittens got to be the first to know?"

"Oh, this one does not think it was intentional," the man replied placatingly. "Only Miss Nala got drunk off the water in the Misty Grove and Mr. Talon rescued her from drowning in the bathtub, and then they made a great deal of noise until dawn! It was like having the girls back in the house when Master Sanguine is around."

"Thank you for providing breakfast, Mittens," Talon said, quite as if this were an everyday conversation. He'd expect nothing less from a Sanguinist, to be entirely honest, even one only in his sphere for the Moon Sugar use.

"Oh, this one is quite welcome," the man said, blushing like a much younger man, then pausing, looking puzzled. "What is the little elf doing with the stick?"

Telki turned quickly, hoping against hope to catch Murril before all insanity broke loose. She didn't quite make it in time.

On the plus side, Erandur made an adorable turtle.

The downside, of course, was that her husband was a turtle.

Murril wailed, contrite, rushing to Erandur and picking him up, making cooing noises and stroking his shell, even though he was a rather large turtle and a bit big for a girl her size to be carting around, especially while holding a staff.

Tyr was breathless with laughter, bent double on the bench and half on Fey's lap. She looked mildly horrified. Apparently she had missed the story of Blaise and the guard-turned-chicken. Her mind was filled with horrific visions of Blossom finding that thing or Orien trying to turn Bacon into a dragon to play with.

Telki huffed, took in Erandur's condition, and figured it'd probably be quicker to let it wear off than to try to Wabbajack him back to himself. The Wabbajack apparently only obeyed her when she was distracted. She slipped it free of Murril's elbow and put it back in the case. Murril tearfully held Erandur up for her to see.

"I see, Murril, and I know you're sorry. Erandur knows, too. He'll be himself again in just a little bit. If I tried to use the Wabbajack again, it could turn him into an

ashhopper."

Deciding that a turtle was much better than whatever an ashhopper was, Murril nodded and went to sit on Fey's feet, cuddling Erandur the Turtle. She only jumped a little when the door slammed open and Blythe darted in, slamming it behind her and leaning against the door like the Oblivion Crisis had restarted and she was holding off the hoards by sheer will. Her hair had broken free and was clinging to the door around her like it wanted to help.

"Hello," she said breathlessly, pushing a curl back.

"Are you alright?" Shell asked, frowning at her.

"Unexpected developments. Very unexpected," she sighed.

Telki glanced at her erstwhile terrapinned husband. "Do tell."

"I lied and said I ate some of the new cheese by accident. They sent me home."

"What's happened that you needed to come here now now now?" Telki's attention was back on Blythe, her gaze sharp and back in the moment.

"They fixed the order form," she said, walking into the room and pulling her hair back. "I sent it back again with further nit-picky bureaucratic nonsense, but they're pushing the second attempt through. It even sounds like they found who they want to hire."

"Can't you just find out who that is and we can make a preliminary, er, well, threat, I guess," Tyr asked, not comfortable with casually murdering a bunch of people hired to do something. It was one thing to kill them after the fact, another to do so before they perhaps even knew what their leaders had signed them up for, let alone before they made the moral choice to follow those orders or not.

"If I knew that, I would have sent them a cheese basket by now," she snapped, glaring at him.

"Damn. What options do we have available?"

"Well, I kidnap Ama, then maybe Talon does some poking, though it looks like he's already done a bit, and we figure out what our next move is," she said, barely flickering an eyelash as she looked over Talon and Nala.

"Oooh, you mean it's time to go play with a Toady's brain? Or would that be his libido? Either way, there is playing and pranking to be had…what are we waiting for again?" Ama enthused.

"You to find a less…socially acceptable outfit," Blythe suggested, pushing her hair out of her face. "I only have so much time before they show up at my flat, wanting to know what I did with this, that, or the other thing."

"I still have that one I borrowed for my earlier errand, let me go grab it." Ama swanned out of the room, humming to herself.

Blythe watched her for a moment, gathering her hair in a bun that wouldn't hold it for more than half an hour, if that, and folded her hands before her demurely, looking Talon and Nala over like a patient schoolteacher. "So, how are you two?" she asked sweetly.

Nala could feel her cheeks going up in flames, and slowly inched behind Talon's nice broad back. Blythe snickered and Talon sighed, a slight sound only audible to the pair of them.

"Er…can someone answer something that's been bothering me?" Tyr asked hesitantly, looking from the Breton woman that sort of reminded him of Ulfric's old tutor he'd been frightened of as a child to his wife. "If this is supposedly a private thing funded by one or two Counselors, why is there paperwork at all?"

"Imperials," Blythe flipped her hand dismissively, sounding absolutely disgusted. Rather like Galmar, actually; he saw why they got on now.

"There's paperwork because whoever is funding this has most of their money tied up in bonds to the Legion," Shell explained, arms folded over her chest as she leaned against the wall. "That doesn't help us narrow it down, since it's a rather common thing to invest in, but it does give us a paper trail to follow."

"Um, what?" he asked, confused. "I thought most Imperial nobles sat on their money." The image of a fat Imperial sitting on a pile of gold guzzling wine was a popular one in Skyrim.

"Noble houses whose land no longer makes enough profit to keep them in the lifestyle they want often invest in trades," Fey informed him calmly. "In Skyrim it doesn't make as much of a difference, because Skyrim does not have Courts in the same manner as Cyrodiil, but here keeping one's status costs quite a lot of money. If one doesn't want to tax their peasants into an uprising or isn't lucky enough to have resources that bring in extra currency, they need an alternative way to make that money."

"The Legion is a surer way to make money than one of the trades, which tend to be self-contained and will sometimes only work with a noble family if that family is also involved somehow, like someone with a lot of pastureland investing with the textile Guilds," Blythe said, sounding  _exactly_ like that schoolteacher. "The Legion is always bringing in money, through taxes to pay the Legionnaires, but it also takes in large sums of money from noble families or even Guilds, which it uses then repays after a certain amount of time, with interest. The longer someone can wait to recollect that bond after the payment date, the more interest it accrues." Adjusting her glasses, she added, "Judging by how much money they're asking, this person has a lot of interest on their bond. Should narrow down the candidates if I have to resort to stealing records."

"Here I am! White stripes are rather memorable, so I made myself blah brown. Whaddayathink?" Ama danced back in with a peacock blue peasant shirt barely covering her generous assets, an eyeblinding multicolored skirt kilted up to her hips, and bangles and bracelets jingling merrily around ankles and wrists. "I even took the time for makeup." Gaudy colors to match the skirt rode over eyelashes practically caked in mascara, along with rouged cheeks and sin red lips.

For once, Blythe was speechless. It was only for a breath before she burst out in delighted laughter, her hair flying out of the bun as if it too, wanted to celebrate the hilarity. Shell actually fell down, Talon took a deep breath, Fey covered Murril's eyes and then Tyr's when he turned bright red. Murril ducked under the elf's hand, peeked, then covered Turtle Erandur's eyes, poking her head back behind Fey's palm. She wasn't entirely sure why they were all playing peek-a-boo, but she'd go with it.

"Oh, it's perfect!" the Breton howled, wiping tears from her face. "Absolutely perfect."

"This one has ear bangles that would match that nicely," Mittens put in, well used to that sort of dress.

"Mittens, I could kiss you. Yes, please and thank you."

Flushing happily, the Sanguinist hurried out of the room to fetch them, followed closely by his cat. He returned before most of them managed to catch their breaths, handing her heavy gold hoops.

"Care to do the honors, Mittens?" Ama presented an ear for him. "I can never see what I'm doing."

"This one has eyes on the front of her head," he said agreeably, carefully setting the first hoop, "not on her palms."

"Thank you, how does it look?" Ama gently kissed Mitten's cheek, before preening with her new ear bangles. She tilted her head, feeling the weight of them. "And real gold, too. I'll make sure they come back to you."

"This one can keep them," he muttered shyly. "There are lots of trinkets in the house."

"Awww, Mittens! Thank you." That earned him a matching kiss on the other cheek, proving that Imperials truly could blush as red as Nords.

"Hello? Time limit? You can give him a bird or something when we get back," Blythe reminded them.

"Oh, this one does not eat meat," Mittens said cheerfully.

Blythe opened her mouth, paused, closed it and shook her head. "I'm not touching that one."

"Well then, let's get to it. I need all the information to turn this toady into an emotional pretzel. You talk, we walk." Ama breezed up to Blythe, grabbing her arm companionably, and just about bounced out the door with her. "Now, let's start with a name or would that be telling? Gimme all the impertinent info…"


	32. Time and the Hour Runs Through the Roughest Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teen angst, then adult angst, then Mara shows she knows what she's doing. Oh, and the main plot comes back.

Haffod wondered how long it would be before the other shoe would drop. Since the move to Windhelm, he'd not been made to sump a single septic tank. He'd not been made to clean sewage lines, scrub privies, or any other equally smelly or unsavory chore. He'd chopped no more wood than anyone else, washed no more pots and pans than anyone else, and only been asked to beat the big carpets that the littles couldn't manage yet. In fact, he'd been treated…pretty much like one of their kids.

Which was odd, because in all his years, he'd never seen or heard of a family quite like this one. It was rare enough to find a family with both parents still alive, but one that was constantly adding parents? Not replacing,  _adding_. It was also safe to say he'd never met one like the latest addition. Shell scared him to his bones, when she wasn't disarming him, usually literally, but occasionally socially. She could claim to be socially inept all she wanted, but it was uncanny how often she got exactly what she wanted when she wanted it. He sometimes felt like a book with extra large letters she was reading.

_Thank Shor_ she didn't hold a grudge. When he'd found her wandering alone on the side of that mountain all those months ago, completely lost, and firmly told her he'd help her wherever she wanted to go  _except_ back to the married man she was seeing, the way she'd examined him convinced him that he was about to die. Like she was evaluating exactly how best to take him apart. Then he'd seen her fight those vampires and that bear and realized that had probably been  _exactly_ what she was thinking. After their practice in the arena, now she was apparently doing it for fun. Haffod had to make himself quit thinking about Shell, or run the risk of hyperventilating. His confidence couldn't take that sort of beating again.

Which, of course, made his poor mind move on to his hero, Gideon. When he'd set out for his "virgin year" from the Keep to either find his way in the world or find an Elder member willing to take on the next part of his instruction, he'd immediately thought of and dismissed the thought of looking for the man that actually wielded the weapon of their deity. Such a man would probably have half a dozen pages a year show up, begging him to take them on. When he'd caught a glimpse of fox prints in the snow leading to Windhelm, he'd thought that as good a sign as any and followed the way. He'd never dreamed he'd actually meet the man, let alone that he would end up spending several months doing penance for interfering in his hero's admittedly confusing romantic life.

Paladin Gideon really was a hero, in every sense of the word, even if some of the other Elders would raise an eyebrow or two at his marriage (but Shor himself was married to Kyne and had Mara, the goddess of hearth, as a concubine, so there wasn't much they could really say about it). The man was patient, kind, and a damned fine fighter. It made him nearly swoon to find he was just as patient and fine a teacher. He felt he'd learned more from him the little while he'd been under penance than his entire time as a page at the Keep—he could actually  _Shout_  now! He wondered, hoped really, he could stay. He was afraid to even think the word "squire" for fear of jinxing any chance, but the mob of hopeful pages he'd assumed followed him around had turned out to be a mob of rambunctious children adopted by his Dragonborn wife.

His mind skittered nervously away, blushing, from the  _other_  reason he desperately wanted to stay.

Just his luck the best friend he'd made since leaving the Keep would have to fall for  _her_  too, wasn't it? Still, his and Alesan's had turned into a friendly rivalry once they saw who all else they were up against. Watching Heron and Demeus battle like an old married couple was probably the only thing keeping him from pulling his hair out in defeated frustration. And then Heron went and got himself adopted by Shor! He was steadfastly not thinking about all the implications to that, and how likely it was Gideon would turn his attentions toward the other Nord to prepare him for the Order. Trying to decide whether it was a snub or a blessing was enough to give him a headache. Still, Shor had given him a small sign of favor, as well. Just realizing he had fur from his own chosen deity on his clothes was enough to make his hair stand on end.

Lost in his thoughts, Haffod rounded the corner to the most interesting sight: Heron searching under furniture and in behind chairs. Curiosity prevented him from ignoring him and continuing on to the practice area. "What have you lost, Heron?"

"Well, according to you people, I lost a god," the other Nord said, sounding somewhat frustrated.

Haffod stopped cold, raising both eyebrows. "You're looking for Shor's avatar?"

"Well, he has this tendency to run out and nip at me or trip me and make that weird snickering sound whenever he's vanished thus far, so I'm left wondering what exactly your Trickster is plotting now." Heron moved over to a table, lifting the cloth and finding nothing but Murril's pouting Atronach. He hastily let the cover drop and moved on.

Haffod shrugged. "He could be back tomorrow, or sometime next year.  _You_  belong to  _him_ , not the other way around."

"So I went from belonging to a psychopathic elf to a cosmic woodland creature. Grand." He sighed, sitting up on his heels and simply remaining there a moment, pensive.

Haffod shrugged. "He can appear as anything; the fox is only the most common of his avatars. The other…well, you'd be hard pressed to tell the difference between a night out with him or Sanguine. There's legends they're drinking buddies."

Hooded brown eyes examined him for a long moment. "Something tells me I'm going to miss out on the 'drinking' part of being a Nord, just out of self-preservation."

"That depends on how adamantly you don't want to waken married to a goat or a hagraven. There's tavern songs of both happening, come to think of it." Haffod could feel his lips curling up, will he, nil he. It wasn't often he got to play teacher.

Thinking a moment, Heron shrugged. "Woken up worse off," he muttered, standing and brushing off his pants.

Haffod's brows quickly drew down. "Heron, are you alright?"

"I'll live," he shrugged again. "Overall, this place is pretty decent, even if I do have to watch Sura like a hawk," he gave the other boy a sharp look.

Haffod's brow furrowed as he tilted his head in thought, studying Heron. "Why? Are you two promised to each other?" He hadn't thought that was the case, but then, he'd been wrong before.

"Uh," Heron could only look at him dumbly for a moment, "You think Young Ones have arranged marriages or something? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I don't know enough about Young Ones to think one way or the other. Sura's Telki's now. Anyone that so much as looks at her wrong would quickly be wearing their insides for their outsides, or wishing they were. That only left her affections for you to worry over. Which you'd only be concerned about, if you wanted them?" Haffod shrugged. "I admit I don't know, and I can't know, until you tell me."

"I'm worried about someone taking advantage before she knows what way is up," Heron stated baldly. "Sad thing about you is you'd not even realize you were doing it."

Haffod's head snapped back as if struck, and his face quickly clouded like a lowering thunderstorm. "You have one chance, and one only, to take that back."

"You didn't even know you liked her until Shell pointed it out," Heron said, slightly incredulous, but also slightly amused.

"The only part I was unaware of was how little she understood of the situation, and how little she valued herself.  _ **TAKE IT BACK**_."

Glancing up as surprisingly little dust fell from the rafters, Heron stated mildly, "You know, I would kill to know how you do that." Glancing back down at the closed fists of the other teenager, he continued, "Anyway, I don't quite see the point in taking back something that hasn't been disproven."

"How in hell did Shor pick you, when you can think that of one of his followers?" Haffod snorted. "First Tenant: Never take advantage of the innocent, and Sura's pretty much a textbook example. Yes, I am interested, and if by Mara's grace she ever showed me her favor, I'd be hers until she let me go. That's not  _taking advantage,_  you asshole!"

The former spy's smile was both smug and charming. "Oh, good, that means if you break that word you'll have to deal with more than just me."

Haffod could only look at him with a mixture of pity, frustration, and disappointment. Eventually, he shook his head and left the room. He couldn't even rightly remember why he'd gone in there in the first place. There was a practice pell he needed to reduce to splinters in the very immediate future.

His path to some duly expiated angst passed right through the sitting room, where Sura had set herself up a little sewing nest. She was contentedly humming, and the picture she made there took Haffod's breath away. He stood there watching her for a moment with a silly smile flitting about the corner of his mouth.

She glanced up, a pair of pins carefully held in her lips, but took them out long enough to smile a greeting. "What?" she asked, taking in the smile and practice blade.

"You truly have no idea what a balm to the soul you are, do you?"

Color crept into her cheeks, but she laughed a bit, "What?" she repeated.

Haffod grimaced, and pointed behind him with his blade. "I'm sure you heard some of it, since I can't control the  _thu'um_  yet. Heron suggested I had no honor, tricking me into admitting my feelings for you. He could have just asked. It hurt, I was angry, and then I saw you, and I wasn't so much."

Sura frowned, trying to work out all the individual statements he simply tossed at her. "I don't follow," she finally admitted. "Is the  _thu'um_  the shaking thing, why would Heron say such a thing, and doesn't everyone have feelings about everybody? And why would you stop being angry just because I'm here? I mean, my teammates used to…" she stopped, shaking her head.

Haffod chuckled. "Yes, the  _thu'um_  is the shaking thing." He pulled one of the chairs closer, so he could talk to her, eye to eye. "Sura, I care about you, as more than a friend, but I don't think you're ready for that sort of thing yet, and Heron worried I would take advantage of that. So he thought it necessary to trick my feelings and intentions out of me, instead of just asking. He insulted me in the worst way, and it hurt badly."

"Oh," she squeaked, the talk from Telki and Shell running through her mind. "Ow!" she added, as her twitch stabbed one of the pins into her hand.

"Oh! Here, let me, this much I can do." Haffod gently took her hand, and let the little healing he had sooth the hurt and seal the wound. "Better?"

She nodded, biting her lip and looking very thoughtful. "I…I was the youngest of my team," she finally managed. "And I had parents, a family, a lot longer than any of the others. They used to tell me I was different than them because of it, but they liked it. You said I was," she stopped, then tried again, "that seeing me somehow made you feel better. They used to say that too."

Smoothing out the fabric, she found the pin she'd knocked out of place and corrected it, using magic to pull the drop of blood from the color of the cloth. "They were always looking after me, in their own way. Sometimes, it got them in trouble, but they did it anyway." Taking a deep breath, she looked back up into his face, "I hope you don't think badly of him."

Haffod let out a long sigh. "Right now, I am hurt and angry, and I have every right to be. He took the one thing I pride myself on, my integrity, and claimed I had none, because I was too stupid." Haffod took a deep breath, trying to sort all his thoughts into place. "It's more than that, I thought we might have a friendship, maybe even kinship since Shor picked him, but it's as if he wadded all that up and threw it away as nothing."

He shook his head. "I don't think I can sort it all out. I pity him, that he cannot go about ensuring your welfare any other way, and that's the kindest thing I can say right now. Maybe I can see past it later, but right now, it's a fresh wound. Can you understand that?" His eyes pleaded with hers to understand, even as his fingers continued to caress hers in soothing circles, as they had been since healing her pinprick.

Nodding, she added, "I hope you don't hold it against him forever, though. I've known him for long enough to know what he probably was after."

Haffod searched her eyes. "Anything you ask of me, I'd tell you the truth of it. When you are ready to hear it, just ask."

Blushing, half wondering why she was blushing and half afraid she knew, she ducked her head behind her hair to hide it, "I will."

Haffod leaned back, taking in the way she was hiding behind her hair. He softly laid her hand back in her lap, patting it lightly. "I've probably kept you from your sewing. I'll go beat a few rounds on the pell, then. Sura, you do know you can tell me to leave whenever you're uncomfortable, don't you?"

"You're too nice," she replied, surprised, "And it's not a bad uncomfortable."

Haffod dropped his head, chuckling. "I'm not even sure how to explain it so it makes sense. You are important to me. I want your affections, but I want them honestly, not having rushed you into them or confused you into them."

"I think I do understand," she said examining him as if puzzled by him a bit. "That's not the part that's confusing."

Haffod's head came up, his eyebrows rising to his hairline. "What is it, then?"

"Why  _me?"_  she burst out, all the bafflement that had been growing over the last week weighing down the words. She'd been out in Windhelm enough to know there were plenty of other girls their age, presumably ones he wouldn't have to be so careful with. Some of them were downright beautiful, and even Lucia was showing signs of ending up that way. She was a scrawny half-breed failed spy that couldn't even cast spells passed Apprentice level; this level of attention had usually been of the negative kind.

"Why not you?" Haffod's brows knitted in confusion. "Sura, there is no way to answer that question that you'd believe. All I can hope is to show you."

"Well," she said after a moment, "I suppose we'll both be here for a while, anyway." Turning back to her sewing, confused and a bit anxious—and completely unsure if it was in a good way or not—she added, "I fixed your pants. They're on the top of the pile in the basket there."

"You? Really? Thank you."

"There was a lot of mending to be done, I just took some initiative," she couldn't recall the last time her face felt that hot. "I like sewing, and I'm not used to just sitting around."

Haffod chuckled. "Sure you're not part Nord?"

"Not at all," she replied, shaking out the skirt she was hemming.

Haffod took a deep breath, and then another. "Sura, you are aware it's not just me?"

"You're all Nord," she replied, confused again.

"No, not about that," Haffod braced himself, "I mean, it's not just me that is honestly interested in you."

Putting the skirt back on her lap, she half turned to look at him attentively.

Haffod heaved another sigh. "Alesan is as interested in you as I am. I didn't think it'd be right, you knowing that I was, and not knowing you had a choice, if you wanted it." Haffod ran a distracted hand through his hair, catching a braid and unraveling part of it. "And I'm probably making a hash of this whole mess."

"At least I wouldn't know if you were?" she offered with a half smile.

Haffod gave her back the other half. "You'd know if I sounded a fool, though."

"I like it when you're silly," she replied, going back to fixing the hem, methodically making short, neat stitches that would hopefully keep it from unravelling again.

"Only when I'm silly?" Haffod gave her his widest eyed look, poking his lip out like Blaise or Frankie would when begging a treat.

"I like it when you're nice, too," she said, smiling slightly. "And sometimes when you're mad."

Haffod's heart did a little stutterstep in his chest. "It begins to sound like you might simply like me all the time, Sura."

Giving him an odd look, she explained, "You've never given me a reason not to like you."

Haffod smiled brightly at her, getting up and bowing to her. "Then I hope I never give you reason to dislike me. That pell isn't going to beat itself into splinters. Would you like company after lunch?"

"Only if you don't mind that Sofie has her heart set on doing something involving my head and a basket of ribbons."

"She may even use my head for her artwork."

Sura thought on that a moment, then shook her head. "I suppose I'll find out."

Haffod bowed to her one more time, and made his way to the practice ring. He had quite a bit to work out. Sura stared after him, feeling much the same. Finishing the hem she was working on, she said mildly, "You could have been nicer about it."

Heron shrugged, all but appearing leaning against the doorframe. His arms were crossed easily over his chest and he was examining her without being obvious about it. She'd known him too long to be fooled by his relaxed pose.

Pursing her lips and giving him a disapproving look, she sighed and looked down. "Why did you do that?" she asked in a small voice.

"Haffod feels first and thinks later. The more he feels, the less he thinks on it," Heron replied after a moment. "Now, when it comes to you, at least, he'll make a point of thinking first. His pride won't let him do anything else."

"You really hurt his feelings," she told him, setting aside her sewing completely and meeting his eyes, hands folded in her lap in an unconscious echo of her long-dead mother.

Heron blinked, surprised, and examined her. "I'm leaving you here, Sura. I don't want to go find my parents unless I know for sure you'll be looked after as well as if our team was still here. You're all I have left, and I'm going to do what I can to ensure you'll be happy. That's all I care about."

"How does forcing yourself to hurt people you like make me happy?" she asked bluntly, making him twitch. "I know you miss everyone; I do too. But that doesn't mean we have to avoid making new friends."

"I'm not here to make friends," he rebutted, a hint of harshness entering his tone.

"Evidently."

He stared at her for a long moment, then his lips twitched upward. "Being here has been good for you," he noted. "Just a week ago you deferred to everything I said."

"As you said," she said after a moment, pulling the next item to be mended into her lap, "you're leaving. I can't rely on you forever."

Another long pause followed. She didn't have to look up to know his face was utterly still, eyes slightly narrowed but with the nearly ever-present hint of a smile that invited people in. He didn't hide the sound of his footsteps as he left. Taking a deep breath, Sura turned the cloth over in her hands, and started mending the long tear that rent the fabric.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Gideon paused outside the practice ring. Whoever was in there was certainly giving the pell a working over. Stepping inside, he watched Haffod systematically reduce the pell to shards.

"Alright, lad, what's happened?" Haffod visibly startled, his expression going from one near grief to surprise in the blink of an eye. His mouth worked for a moment, not finding any answer suitable. He shrugged and moved to the next pell, this time, his strikes much lighter and his control almost robotic. Gideon shook his head, and joined him, taking the next pell over.

"I somehow don't think this is about that long talk you had with Sura." Gideon had seen them in the sitting room together. He worried, because this was all so new for Sura, but he trusted Haffod not to overstep himself. Rather than intrude on their moment, he'd smiled and shooed the two younger kids away that had been headed for their favorite new sibling.

Haffod's strikes paused, before picking up with renewed vigor. "Only marginally."

"So, things are well between you two?"

"As they can be." His strikes made the pell shudder this time.

"Alesan?" Gideon worried their mutual interest would derail their friendship. He cast a side glance to Haffod, while keeping his own routine steady.

"No, but at least Sura knows now. She knows that we both value her. That she's important to us."

"You don't think Alesan would want to tell her himself?"

"Probably. She'd still appreciate it coming from him, but now she knows, at least."

Gideon worked the pell beside Haffod in silence for a few minutes. "So, not Sura, and not Alesan. Did you have words with Heron or Demeus?" Haffod's hammer took off the pell's arm.

"Tell me."

"Heron. I thought, perhaps, I might have found a brother, only for him to insult both my intelligence and integrity. He could have asked, instead, he manipulated me as if I were one of those damned elves that treated him like dirt." Haffod backed away from the pell, chest heaving, and wiped his brow. "How can he think…? Why would he…?"

Gideon wrapped a comforting arm around Haffod. "Because that's the only way he knows. Think a moment, Haffod. How can you know kindness, if you've never been treated with kindness? How can you be a friend, if you've never had one before? Heron has a steep learning curve, but he can be taught, and I think he may be willing to learn. Shor wouldn't have picked him if he weren't."

"Perhaps. It hurts though."

"Well, we have two pells to replace, mayhap you can exercise some of that angst away." Gideon chuckled at Haffod's put-upon sigh.

"Aye, sir."

"That's my squire." Gideon smiled down at Haffod's growing shock, patting him reassuringly on the back, before walking off.

" _ **WHAT?"**_

"We'll work on your control, too. Otherwise we'll have to send you up to live in silence with the Greybeards," Gideon chuckled, and left his squire gaping.

**.**

* * *

**.**

"So what's it called when you're not Dragonborn but can make the house shake with cracky, puberty voice?" Shell asked as Gideon walked back toward the door where she leaned, admiring the way he moved with a weapon in his hands.

"Haffod is quite probably the most talented Tongue I've ever met," Gideon said with pride. "He's going to need to learn not to use the Voice now, rather than the opposite. Very, very few have that level of ability."

She tilted her head, examining the boy and not taking the too-easy opening (honestly, what had the person that created  _that_ name have been thinking?), "I take it that's not why he looks like a kicked puppy?" she reconsidered that a moment as the boy took off the pell's remaining arm, "An  _angry_  kicked puppy."

"Heron." Gideon's mouth twisted, "It appears he used Young One manipulation on him, and either flung it in Haffod's face, or wasn't as clever with it as he could have been." Gideon sighed, "Either way, he scuttled a friendship before it could begin."

She winced. "Maybe he should have just stabbed him. Turned out alright for me."

"It would have hurt less than questioning his integrity, or treating him like a damned Thalmor toady." Gideon draped a warm arm around Shell. "And I loved you despite the stabbings, not because of them. There's a difference."

Snapping her fingers in mock-disappointment, she said, "Well, darn. And here I thought I'd found the way to a man's heart; carve your way in."

"No, you went the traditional route: you fed a stray. Now you can't get rid of me."

"Guess I'll have to find a way to cope," she teased, dancing her fingers up his abs, knowing it would tickle.

He quickly caught the traipsing fingers, and brought them to his lips for a kiss, letting his warm breath and soft whiskers do their own kind of torture. "However shall you manage?"

"Well, giving you a bath certainly helped back in Alinor, and you're pretty sweaty now…" her eyes sparkled up at him. "Want some help with your back?"

"Yes, I think I would." Gideon hitched her over a shoulder, "What are we waiting for?"

Shell laughed and kicked her feet, "I let you get away with it once and now it's tradition?" she asked.

"What good is my own pocket-sized Bitsy Bosmer if I can't pick you up every opportunity?" He grinned at her. "I like the feel of you in my arms."

She leaned over a little farther and swatted his behind for that. "Yahoo."

He chuckled, and jostled her into place on his wide shoulder. "Come, my darling lady, our bath awaits."

Shell quickly locked the door behind them before one of the children could decide they needed something from the room. She loved the bathing rooms Telki had put in, but she did miss the privacy of their room in the Palace of Kings. That actually reminded her of something. "Gideon?" she asked, watching him strip out of his boots. "What's a honeymoon?"

Gideon paused, one boot on and one in his hand. "It's a time for a married couple to be alone and learn each other after the marriage. Some honeymoons are as short as a night and a day, others are as long as the two can afford." Gideon chuckled, "There's one tale of a couple that never stopped until they passed on to Shor's Halls."

"That female guard that caught us kissing on the way here the other day saw me in the market and asked where we'd be going," she said, very much liking the idea of having Gideon all to herself for a few days. She really enjoyed her new family, but they were rather…everywhere.

"Where would you like to go? It could be arranged." Gideon pulled his tunic over his head, and sat back down on the bench. He pulled her into the circle of his arms.

"I don't know," she confessed. "Somewhere a little warmer, though? And it'd be nice not to have to worry if I cast Muffle or not."

Gideon pulled her tight as he laughed. "Is Riften warm enough? We have a house down there, Aspen Manor."

"Oh Anu and Sithis, not Riften!" she stared at him, alarmed. "Do you know how hard it would be to keep the Guild from stopping in? Delvin would probably drop by  _hoping_ we forgot Muffle!"

"It's outside the town, other side of that farm down there. They'd never have to know we're there. Or there's the Lakehouse in Falkreath? Where do you want to go?" Gideon's brow furrowed in thought. "Tyr also mentioned a castle, somewhere in Cyrodiil?"

"What, he wants us to bring an army or camp in a ruin?" she asked, skeptical.

"No army, and I understand it's well kept. It was some lord's vacation home, and I suspect he wants me to talk Telki into buying it. It'd have enough room for everyone and to spare."

"Why on Nirn would Tyr want Telki to buy a castle?" she asked, gears shifting in her brain. If he was doing what she thought he might be doing he just might get himself stabbed again.

Gideon shrugged. "Possibly to have her closer? We're probably the only support he has besides Ulfric he trusts, and Ulfric's rather beholden to stay in Skyrim. Telki's a Thane; they have more leave to travel about."

Humming in thought as she absently stroked her fingers through his hair, she murmured, "The Jarls share the same status with the Counts in Cyrodiil, so when they were part of the Empire they had seats on the Elder Council, even if they didn't fill them in person. A Thane wouldn't be out of place as a Council member, should he decide a few needed…replacing."

Gideon opened one eye that had closed in bliss. "Well, that would keep the meetings from becoming boring, at least."

"Wonder what would be more effective: Telki in Council or a monkey that throws things at Councilors that are too intractable," Shell mused.

Gideon gave Shell a stinky eye. "Did you just compare our wife to a monkey?"

"In the level of sheer mayhem she can cause to the utterly, willfully stupid, yes. I think she wins."

Gideon pulled her back against him, hiding his smile in her soft, silky hair. "A monkey doesn't differentiate."

"Sure it does; you teach it to recognize tone," she stifled a smile, bending an arm behind her to pull at the lace of the dress she'd chosen. She had more than half a mind to use that portal to commission half a dozen of them. People seemed so much more receptive to her when she was in a dress, as if she were less threatening, somehow. Not to mention the sheer pleasure of swishing the skirts, and that she could now hide about twice as many daggers around her legs.

"That would be interesting to watch: you teaching a monkey to recognize stupid." Gideon nibbled on her neck. It was right there. "You can start with Blaise."

"I'm assuming Blaise is the monkey, since he's not only not stupid, but possibly too smart for his own good."

"Got it in one." Gideon turned her around, helping her straddle his lap. "Now, enough about monkeys, let's talk about us." If the way he kissed her was any indication, he wasn't really interested in talking at all.

Teasing him a moment by pressing herself fully against him, she gently broke the kiss and gave him a smile, stepping away and tugging his hands. "Bath, remember?"

"But it doesn't have to be just a bath, does it?" Gideon nuzzled into her temple, grazing the tip of her ear with his lips. She shivered and gave him an admonishing look that wasn't quite as effective as it could have been, leading him back to the tub and giving him a little shove toward it. Gideon allowed himself to collapse into the filled tub, making sure to splash half of it out.

"Come on in, the water's fine." He flung his long hair out of his face.

"So is soap, and that requires me bringing it over," she laughed, making her selections and setting them beside the large, half recessed tile tub that might as well have been a pool. It would have to be to fit all of Gideon. Slipping her dress off and hanging it out of reach of any splashes, she left her chemise on and knelt by the side, using a bit of soap to help rub the tension out of his shoulders.

He raised an eyebrow at the increased number of daggers with her clothing. "So, should I be concerned? You're carrying more daggers. I can't tell if that's because of opportunity, or something's worried you."

Shell giggled, "I really like skirts, after all! I can fit all my daggers, and I don't have to wear smalls, in case opportunities arise," she leaned forward and kissed the side of his neck as she said that.

"That's…" Gideon momentarily lost his breath, "That's my girl."

"There is one thing I wanted to discuss with you," she said, a hint of nervousness entering her tone even as she moved on to gently kneading the cords of his neck.

Gideon sighed into her ministrations. "What's bothering you, Shell?" He leaned back so he could watch her face.

"Well, it's just that the Guild's probably wondering when I'm coming back. They're still a little…well, jumpy, I guess, after Mercer."

"Do you need to go alone, or may I come with you?"

"Telki is having your baby," she said with a soft smile, adding some Restoration to her rubbing fingers as she felt him tense, "You should be with her."

Gideon groaned. "You'd think mages would have developed a way now to be in two places at once. I'm not ashamed to admit your last letter scared me witless."

"Yeah," she looked down. "Killing men that stab me is surprisingly cathartic, though."

" _What?"_ Shell did not know Gideon could move that quickly. He had whipped around and had her in his lap, inspecting every inch of her so fast her head was spinning slightly.

"Shell…" His voice choked as he gently stroked the scar showing through her soaked chemise. He'd not paid much attention to it before, considering the number of scars Shell had, and the one time he'd asked, she had distracted him. "I nearly lost you." It was a stab wound from a sword, sliding just under the fourth rib. It should have killed her. "How did you survive this?"

"Pretty, emotionally unavailable Dunmer woman," she said, trying to sound light and failing. "She was waiting to kill Mercer, and even though I'd gone down there with him, she saved me."

Gideon crushed Shell to his chest, his arms shaking slightly. "Seems I owe her a debt."

"Unfortunately, the only thing she wants, none of us can give," Shell murmured, her arms going around him, soothing his hair down. She didn't know what she'd do if she lost Gideon the way Karliah had lost Gallus. Well, go on a killing rampage of the ones responsible, but after that, she had no idea. "So, you're not going to be upset with me heading off for a bit? Guild stuff kinda keeps me busy, so I have no idea how long I'll be away, but when Sam comes back you can come kidnap me and give those workaholics a stern look. Vex might swoon." Calling anyone in the Guild a workaholic was a bit of a stretch before realizing they lived and breathed thieving.

"Give me tonight, at least," Gideon murmured against her hair. "I just learned how close I came to losing you. Give me tonight to cope."

"Well I wasn't exactly planning on leaving this instant," she let her amusement show on her face, resting her forehead against his to look directly into his eyes.

"So I can wheedle two nights, then?" Gideon gave her his best lost puppy face, even though the corners of his lips twitched.

"Gideon, I'm half afraid the Flagon is going to be gone by the time I get there. Also, I have an Artifact that needs returning to a Daedric Shrine, though I have been putting that off trying to get Karliah to interact with actual living people again."

"That's easy. Introduce her to Telki. Problem solved."

"I am not sure if that is a wonderful or horrible idea," she admitted, hauling herself out of the water. "If you ever feel the urge to pull me in again, please make sure I've taken the daggers off," she quickly divested herself of them, some of them still seeming to appear from thin air, thoroughly drying the leather straps and sheaths before laying everything out to dry.

"You're de-daggered now, yes?" Gideon reached for her with grabby hands.

"I'm not finished yet," she scolded.

"Well, finish already, I'd like to get started." He pouted at her. Really, Nords that big had no business pouting better than most four-year-olds.

Giving him an evil look, she slowly slid her soaked chemise over her head, then got in the opposite side of the tub, kicking a bit of water at him first.

"Nope," Gideon was on her like a stooping eagle, cuddling her close in his arms. "I'm still not over discovering I nearly lost you. C'mere."

"Do you want me to distract you?" she offered, her fingers grazing over his hip and down his thigh under the water.

"Minx. I need you to love me." Gideon finally met her eyes, letting her see the need and fear. It made her breath catch in her chest, and she wordlessly raised one hand to brush along his cheek before kissing him lightly, deepening it after a moment, once again bowled over by the depths of her feelings for this man. Seeing them returned in his eyes…her arms tightened around him. Gideon dropped his head on her shoulder, and let the shudders run through him, before nuzzling in and kissing his way to her ear. She gasped and melted against him. Gideon kissed her with all the love, worry, fear, and pride he'd been trying to hold back from the moment he'd heard what she'd been through. He spent the rest of the night showing her how precious to him she was.

**.**

* * *

**.**

"I need chocolate, possibly therapy, definitely a shower with a steel wool scrubby."

Blythe rolled her eyes as she led the Khajiit down a lesser-used corridor—lesser used because it went to her warehouse. "Stop grousing. I still have to work with that man; you never have to see him again."

" _He slobbered on me_!" Ama whisper-wailed. "How often have you worn that toad's spit? Huh?"

"Twice. He actually spit on me," she replied. "Why do you think he limps?"

"And you wouldn't let me kill him why?"

"Because he's useful. Anyone you can manipulate that easily that knows other people's secrets is highly useful," she replied, glancing at the shuddering Khajiit. "And I have a sluice system in the warehouse. It was supposed to be for cleaning off filthy cargo, but I turned it into a little bathing area after a few too many overnight shifts. You're welcome to use it, though I hope you know Flame Cloak."

"Does this mean there's a steel wool scrub brush, too?" Ama asked hopefully.

"There's a brush, but I'm fond of having skin," the Young One chuckled, pushing open the door. "I have some things to get done. I'll give you one of the extra uniforms and you can come find me when you're finished."

"'Kay. Thanks for the wash, Blythe." Ama finally dropped the grousing to honestly thank her.

"Thank you for extracting that information from him; I'd hate to have to convince him I actually  _liked_ him. Would have taken weeks." As they talked, she maneuvered them through labyrinthine corridors overshadowed by towering walls of crates. Light didn't even reach the rafters, and the Breton had to cast Candlelight after just the second turning.

"There is chocolate in my near future, right?" Ama playfully wheedled.

"I think that can be managed," Blythe chuckled. "And here we are. Feel free to use the cot if you want; I wasn't kidding that I have a lot to do. Should have known they'd never let me get away with a half day just for poisoning myself."

"How could you be so blind? Tsk tsk." Ama let her sarcasm run, it was a language they shared happily. "Okay, off to scrub a layer of skin and fur off. You'll still love me when I'm bald, right?" Ama quipped as she let herself into the converted bathroom.

"I'd have to love you already, but you're growing on me," Blythe said absently, rounding the corner again and heading to her desk. It wasn't all that far, without the long wall of crates between it and the entrance. That worked out perfectly for her, really, since she could hear people enter and be decent before they rounded the end of the corridor.

Sitting, she sorted through half a dozen documents before the uncommon sound of knocking echoed into the space, shaking dust from the rafters. Blythe stared at the door with a raised eyebrow—as seldom as she had visitors, it was even rarer for them to actually knock.

Her supervisor walked in, his hunched back even more pronounced than usual with the way he was cringing, the fall of his heavy grey wool half-cape exaggerating it even more. He squinted around anxiously until he spotted her. "You came back," he said with relief.

"I managed to find a good Apothecary with some Cure Poison potions in stock," she replied, going back to what she had been doing. "I hope you're not looking for a different answer from earlier. I'm good at finding things, but that's a little too close to human trafficking for what I do. I deal in goods, not desperation."

Tapin drew himself up in outrage. "I'm not looking for a slave, just a young woman willing to see me through my declining years. I have no family and she'd be a widow young enough to marry again, with my assets as a dowry."

"There are plenty of healers willing to take a live-in care position," Blythe responded smoothly, "There's no need for you to look for a wife unless you want other things out of her. And there's really no reason for you to look for a  _young_  wife at all."

"And how would I know they wouldn't poison me to get my money?" he demanded.

"See, you  _compensate_ a healer. You die and their pay stops. A wife would have more motivation to murder your wrinkly arse," she said, not even looking at him as he turned purple with outrage. "Heck, all she actually has to do is hide a pet cat around and you'll be done for."

"You are a horrid, unnatural woman," he accused.

"Thank you."

Someone clearing their throat in the doorway made her turn, eyebrows rising. "Lord Motierre. Were you here to pick up that statue after all? I'm afraid the price has risen; your initial rejection forced me to look for alternate buyers, and I have three bidding on it."

The Imperial lord flushed painfully. "Ah, no. You may keep that…statue," he finally settled, hoping the woman wouldn't mention just what the statue was of. He'd never hear the end of it. "So you are the clerk that has been sending back my orders?"

Well, looked like they could have saved Ama some trouble. Feeling cold, she merely smiled. "I'm sorry, milord, but as I believe I mentioned in my accompanying missive, Imperial funds are tight nowadays and we need something a bit less…vague to release such a sizable bond in between the agreed-upon quarterly release dates. For bookkeeping purposes. You understand."

"I understand that any other clerk would have waived that right on through, but since this facility has the most unclaimed funds at the moment, we need you to approve it," he was gritting his teeth; Blythe watched the tension in his jaw with interest.

"Of course it does," she scoffed. "Because I don't approve every request for appropriating all its funding. Look what happened two buildings over—entire roof caved in and they'd just furnished some nobleman's daughter's birthday party. One party nearly cost the Legion half a warehouse of supplies."

"This isn't for a frivolous task, I assure you," Amaund said tightly.

"Then state what the task actually  _is_  and I might approve it," Blythe said carelessly. "I have to be accountable for these things, you know."

"She has that much issue with it," a new voice put in, "let her write it up." A man strode passed the Elder Councilor, standing in a way that suggested he'd move any obstacle in his path, and probably enjoy doing so. Imperial but large, with a scarred face and light brown hair. He stared at her with keen eyes that might as well have had mirrors behind them for all an ordinary person could read them. Blythe, being somewhat other than ordinary, felt as if she'd been dropped in ice water.

"Oh, grand idea," she replied, flirting a quill at him, "put someone that can actually write in charge."

"Listen, you," Amaund started angrily, but the man shook his head, striding over and straddling the chair opposite her desk.

"Your requests weren't getting approved because of how you were writing them," he stated, examining the Breton across from him as if she were something noxious he'd found on the bottom of his shoe, "Seems we'll get through the issues much faster if she addresses them right now."

Blythe studied Tapin as Amaund nodded and walked over, placing a parchment in front of her and setting the inkwell beside her. The elderly man was wringing his hands, knowing something was wrong, intimidated by the tough, but unable to stop any of this. For once, she almost felt bad for him.

"So, what am I writing up an order for?" she asked, allowing herself to sound bored.

The man across from her smiled. "Murder," he stated, watching to watch her twitch, wanting a shaking reaction like Tapin was giving. The old man moaned and sat right on the floor. That couldn't be good for his hips. "Murder and kidnapping, to be precise."

"And you need  _that_ many septims?" she scoffed, giving him a disapproving look. "Padding your pockets, aren't you?"

Amaund was giving her an uncertain look, as if wondering what all exactly she was into besides getting her hands on rare statuary. The man was scowling. Sharpening her quill, she nibbled on the end of it a moment and began writing as the Imperials exchanged glances.

Ama had carefully and quietly worked herself into a strategic position resting in the shadow of a crossbeam. There she could see Blythe and her three visitors. One, Tapin she heard Blythe call him, looked to be wetting his robes where he groveled on the ground. The brash one looked like a typical tough she'd had to teach manners during her time training in the Imperial city. It was strange, though. His face looked…flayed almost, as if a cat o' nine had been used, and made of twenty different blades.

The last man, Motierre, screamed money and privilege. Blythe had called him "Lord" and this one carried himself like one used to the power that implied. Ama was now incensed: She hadn't had to be slobbered on at all. Apparently, Blythe had managed to be irritating enough they'd come to her. If only they could have known. Ama settled herself in to wait. She didn't like the attitude of that wannabe tough one little bit. Young One or not, Blythe might need her help.

"So, I take it you mean to kill me after this?" Blythe finally said, finishing the text of the document and sprinkling it with fine sand. "Doesn't exactly give me incentive to sign it."

"Not a problem," the man smiled, stretching the scars of his face so they caught the light in hellish ways, "I can forge that well enough with the samples of your signature here."

"True," she said, glancing up at him as she handed him the paper, earning a frown when she didn't release it to him, "Interesting scar. Not a lot of coral reefs around here. I take it you're one of Dessnia's?"

The undisguised shock on his face gave her all the opening she needed to splash the ink across his wide eyes, kicking back from her desk and knocking Amaund over as she did. Nobody noticed in the upheavel two small spheres dropped at their feet.

The room quickly filled with hissing and smoke. Ama lightly dropped down, grabbed Blythe, and scaled back up to the rafters. "Time to make our timely exit on the paths less traveled, hmm? How's your roof walking?"

"Pretty good. One moment though." Leaning over, she cast and a sphere of Conjuration appeared in the midst of the smoke. A long-suffering Dremora in robes glanced around, then up at them. "Grab my stuff and my boss and stab the others," she called. The Dremora sighed and vanished as he walked into the smoke. Glancing at Ama's quizzical face, Blythe shrugged, "Well, I usually have him hauling boxes."

"Poor thing," Ama quipped. It took her no time to get them to the nearest window, where Ama made quick work of opening it: firebolt, mini frost, and boot getting them out quickly.

"Don't feel too bad for him—when I met him he was unbound and terrorizing a village. I just Bound him. And now he does every little thing I ask. Like swim to the bottom of the sea and get me ink from a creature that paralyzes whatever hits it."

"Get me some, too?" Ama blinked big kitty eyes at her.

"Oh, certainly. I threw that in that brazen buck's face anyway," the Breton grinned ferally, her legs flashing under her kited skirts as they raced across the rooftops. "Stop behind that big chimney there."

Ama pulled up behind the chimney, making sure she left no silhouette on the skyline. "What's up?"

"That was a Young One. If I'm right and he's from Dessnia's estate, he'll have a team about," she said, handing Ama an invisibility potion. "We need to move."

"Well, that sucks rotten eggs." Ama took the potion. "Good thing we have Young Ones of our own to help roust them, huh?"

Blythe only groaned. "Meet you back at your sister's," was all she said, casting Invisibility and racing off.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Erandur was having a slightly difficult time of it. He was no longer a turtle, but his normal body refused to balance. Of course, it would be easier to adjust were Murril not standing on the bench beside where he sat, hugging his head and making apologetic noises as she half strangled, half pet him.

"Murril, I promise you, it's alright now. I know you didn't mean to make me a turtle." It was awkward, but he managed to reach around and pet her head soothingly. She pulled his head tighter against her middle and made a sad squeaking sound.

"Murril, little love, come here. It'd make me feel better if I could hug you back."

Releasing his head, she dropped onto his lap and tried to strangle him from the front this time, hiding her face in his chest. She liked Strangely Grey and Somewhat Smoky-Smelling Erandur much better than Hard, Clammy Erandur.

"It's alright, little princess. I promise." Erandur cuddled her close, deftly easing the strangle grip on his neck while holding her close enough she finally settled. It lasted for perhaps a half minute before a large sphere of black light materialized in the center of the room, depositing a very bored Dremora holding a box in one hand and a terrified elderly Imperial in the other. Murril shrieked, launched herself under the bench, then peeked out, got curious, and did a terrible job sneaking to the center of the room while the Dremora watched with rising eyebrows, until she crawled under the Imperial, gazing up at him with wide eyes. Then she reached up, pinched his nose, and ran back to hide behind Erandur.

Erandur chuckled at Murril's antics, then turned to the Dremora. "Hello, who do you belong to?"

The Dremora glowered at the priest, setting the human and the box down. "I am Bound to a human named Sorcha Meurig," it said in gravelly tones.

"I'm afraid I don't recognize that name. Why would she send you here? Please, sit if you'd like." Erandur was curious, but it was no reason to be discourteous until necessary. He wondered if this Meurig could be related to Tim.

"Ah," Talon said, standing on the landing above them with Nala. They'd been curled up together on one of the carpets in their room, her notes spread around them as they tried to puzzle through some of the issues facing a permanent portal, sensed the Conjure, and come running. "Does she need extraction?"

"You know this Sorcha Meurig?" asked Erandur.

"So do you," Talon replied, glancing down at the Dunmer. "It's Blythe."

"Who would kick your ass for that were she able," the Breton groused, walking in the front door just in time to hear that. Murril peeked out from behind Erandur and pointed at the Dremora. "Oh, the help outed me."

"I won't share your name until you're ready," Erandur promised solemnly. "Now, who's our other guest, here?"

"We'll cover that later. Is Ama back?" Blythe asked, glancing around with an uncharacteristic hint of anxiousness. She rather liked Ama, and didn't want her to be caught by her fellow Young Ones.

"Oh hmm? Here I am," Ama walked nonchalantly out of the kitchen. "Just getting a snack." She held two empty honey nut skewers, and was working on a third.

"This is how you give people complexes," Blythe informed her sourly, then pinned her eyes on Talon, "Get down here and get this body link off me before they manage to report me."

"What happened?" he asked, all business as he descended the steps in seconds, somehow managing to avoid the appearance of rushing.

"The thugs were hired by Amaund Motierre, who took exception to my disliking his bureaucratic nonsense and brought his newest hire in to help intimidate the process along. Looks like one of Dessnia's. She never does whip the arrogance out of them." Her words were tough, but her hands were shaking slightly as Talon drew a series of sigils in the air around her, then cast a slightly purple-tinged spell.

"You're teaching me that," Nala budged his elbow after the casting was done. "Don't we need more able to cast that?"

"I'll show you later," he promised, his eyes softening just a bit as he looked at her. "Right now, it seems we have a real problem."

"They probably know they can waltz right into Windhelm asking for freedom to get close to the kids. Granted, Tyr has this…weird way of knowing when people are lying," Blythe shrugged. "All it takes is someone to get behind him while he's Shouting the one in front off the castle."

Ama had finished her last skewer, and was frowning. "But doesn't he have Fey and her kids helping him? Kids see everything. Kids with their training would see everything and its motives, right?" Ama hopped down. "Secondly, why aren't we chasing cleaverface and his crew down already? Stop them before they get near Windhelm at all?"

"Cleaverface?" Talon frowned at her.

"Imagine a face on the wrong end of a cat o' nine with every blade imaginable strapped to it." Ama made a face, "Without a proper healer."

"It's a coral wound," Blythe put in. "Dessnia's the only one besides Faloniril that has an estate on the reef."

"I don't recognize the description," Talon shook his head.

"Trust me, all you're missing is nightmare fuel. Mara's mercy," Ama shuddered.

Glancing down at Nala, he said, "It's best if I start looking for them before they leave."

"Is there any way I could be useful?" Nala looked up at him hopefully.

"Do you know any mass dispels for Illusion magic?" he asked.

Nala thought. "Not one I was taught, but I'm pretty sure I know how to modify and combine to get that effect?"

"They will probably expect that less," he chuckled slightly. "Make sure these two weren't followed. I'll be back when I can. Blythe, you should return to Skyrim. Send Shell and Fey through if you can. Shell especially will know how these ones might think. Heron or Demeus might also have some input."

"You want to trust the teenagers?" Blythe asked skeptically. "What if they want to help too much?"

"I have no doubt you will have no issue spanking them if they get out of line," Talon said with just the hint of a smirk. He meant that quite literally.

"Oh, speaking of," she turned, strode over to the extremely bored Dremora (who was enduring Murril having climbed up his robes to tug at his face and ears), grabbed the Imperial man by the shirt, and hauled him to his feet, brushing off his robes. "Tapin, you should probably hide out here for a while. And I quit."

He gaped. "Qu…You can't quit!" he yelped.

"Nearly getting murdered at work has put a whole new perspective on my life," she said facetiously. "You'll have to sort through the books yourself: I'm getting married."

"Blythe, love, must you send Mara cackling again?" Erandur was rubbing his forehead with a faint frown on his face. Sparkles danced about Erandur's ears.

Tapin continued to gape at her, his mouth working soundlessly as he glanced at Erandur back to her. She rolled her eyes. "No, I'm not marrying the glittery Dunmer. He's way too skinny."

"I'll most likely be performing the ceremony," Erandur clarified. "She's found a bugbear she likes better."

"In the meantime," she turned him around and started marching him to the back of the house to introduce him to Mittens, "Welcome to a House of Sanguine. Maybe you'll find someone here into that kind of thing."


	33. Make Mad the Guilty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Alright, you. You're a Daedric Artifact, more, a crazy Daedric Artifact, which means you probably have as much or more sentience than I do. SO TAKE ME TO MY ROMMY ALREADY." Strangling the stick probably did absolutely no good whatsoever, but she felt better for it, even if all three faces seemed to be laughing at her now.

"Uh…" Shell halted in the doorway, staring, then glanced up at Gideon. "You know, she might get there the normal way, at this rate."

"Nah, if going crazy would have worked, I'd'a been there younger than Murril." Telki thumped the Wabbajack down on a nearby bench, giving it a disgusted look. "So, what has you two seeking the crazy cat lady out?"

"If I invited you to make a Gideon sandwich to de-stress, would that count?" Shell inquired, giving the Artifact a wide berth.

Telki gave Shell a raised eyebrow look. "Precisely how much carnal attention would you be expecting from me, if I said yes?"

Sighing morosely, Shell admitted, "Expecting? Not much? Wanting? More than you'd give."

"Hugs are always allowed, but, yeah, if you want to make a Gideon filling sandwich, I could do that."

Gideon broke in, blushing to his roots. "That wasn't what we came in here to talk about." He gave Shell his most exasperated look, "We might want to run an intervention. Haffod's told Sura not only how he feels about her, but how Alesan feels, when Alesan has not had the opportunity to speak for himself. Even with the best of intentions he does seem to get involved in other people's love lives." Gideon sighed, "And Heron pushed him into it by insulting his honor and integrity. I do not know how that's going to play out, so they'll need watching, I think." While he was talking, he managed to gather both women closer to get his own cuddles in. His final sigh was one of utter contentment.

"Wow, okay. Is this an emergency intervention, or can I take time to study the situation, and deal with the individuals and then have a group talk?" Telki nuzzled into Gideon's hug, sighing happily. It was the first chance to relax she'd had all day.

"Talking to Heron at this point wouldn't do all that much. Unless you want to explain how what he did was wrong from a normal person standpoint. It'll be a bit like telling him about another culture's table manners, though," Shell shrugged.

Telki sighed, "I hate the damage they did to that boy. He has such potential, but right now, it seems like Murril has a better capacity for empathy than he does."

"Courtesans read people, they don't connect with them," Shell said, wrinkling her nose. "Can't get that close to tear them down and still be able to care about it."

"Well, he isn't one anymore, and high time he realized he doesn't have to think that way anymore," Telki fumed, getting worked up all over again. "It's enough to make me want to thump sense into him, but he's probably been thumped so much, he wouldn't even understand why."

"I realized something, though," Shell said, nibbling her lip and wondering if she should even share this. "About him and Sura. Their dynamic."

"Spill it already, the curiosity is killing me. Shush you, that jokes older'n your grandfather's father." Telki gave Gideon a preemptive dig to the ribs as he started to grin.

"Sura is much younger than Heron. And she's very open for a Young One. I think they sheltered her so that she'd keep that. You noticed how lovely she is. Do you really think they would have missed that without someone actively taking attention off her?" She raised an eyebrow at them, waiting for them to connect the dots.

"Oh sweet mercies alive," Telki covered her mouth. All the implications ran pell mell through her head at high speeds. "Seriously, I want Dessnia's head on a pike yesterday, along with all the other Lords and Ladies in on this travesty."

"I also," she said, after another long pause, "think he might have been romantically involved with their thief. The one that died in Morrowind?"

Telki gave her a puzzled look. "Okay, how did you figure that one out?"

"Very careful not-probing," she shrugged. "Typical Heron is apparently smile through pain and deflect to a different topic. The harder he deflects, the more whatever you were talking about affected him."

"You realize I am awash in mother hormones, and I have a momma complex nine miles wide anyway. I'm tempted to get up and go swaddle that boy in a hug until he squeaks." Gideon chuckled and pulled both women a little snugger against him.

"I honestly have no idea how he would take that, but I think he'd at least humor you," Shell told her.

"I don't want to be humored; I want to make it better," Telki huffed.

"I don't think this is the kind of thing you can fix with just a hug," Shell cautioned.

"I know it isn't, but hugs should be a good starting point."

"Honestly? I think finding him his family and helping him move on with his life is a good starting point," she replied, frowning a little worriedly. She was more concerned about this the more she watched them. Falroniril's methods of creating Young Ones had been hellish, and because he was considered one of the worst, she'd assumed the others must be easier on their creations. Just watching them was forcing her to reevaluate those opinions. Dessnia's Young Ones were taught to see themselves and their fellows as less than persons, then forced to rely heavily on their team. They formed bonds through shared hardship and simply being forced to always deal with each other, much like family. Only they were still supposed to think of each other as expendable, even near-worthless. The effects such disparity had on their minds she didn't want to contemplate. At least Faloniril tried to make them all enemies.

"Well, yes, I'm trying to, but that blasted Daedric Stick of Annoyance isn't cooperating, and my best resource to finding said parents is off in in Lala Land being insane!" Telki had gone from huffing to growling. It was really getting to her.

"Helllooo? Anyone home?"

"I have never heard Blythe sing-song before and I never want to again," Shell said seriously, glancing at the door.

"In here, with the Daedric Stick of Still Won't Let Me Collect my Rommy," Telki yodeled over Gideon's shoulder. He winced.

"Ah," the Breton's bushy head appeared around the doorframe. "Shell, you up for a jaunt through the Imperial City? I ran into some former coworkers of the Dessnia type—bitch really does keep far too many pets, doesn't she?—and Talon has a lot of city to cover by his lonesome."

"Why are there other Young Ones after you?" Shell asked with a puzzled frown.

"Something to do with them being hired to kill Tyr and kidnap the kids and my refusing to allow funding," Blythe informed them helpfully. "So I threw paralyzing ink into his eyes and knocked his patron over with a chair and then my Dremora neglected to stab them. Cheeky bastard. Should have done it myself."

"Would I be helpful as distraction?" Gideon offered.

"Well,  _I_  find you a lovely distraction," Shell smiled up at him, "but I think it's just a run over of possible lay points. I'll speak with the boys and see if they know any established locations. They probably don't, but the kinds of places they've been instructed to look for might be just as useful."

"Wonderful. I'm going to go find Gally and see what effect someone trying to kill me has on his male sensibilities," Blythe announced, rubbing her hands together in glee. "If you need me, stop me now."

"I think you laying low for a bit is a wise course of action," Shell replied, amused. "Do send my mother over before you find him?"

"If possible," the Breton agreed.

"Have fun storming the castle!" Telki merrily called after Blythe's retreating form.

"So, I suppose I should go find a pair of sulky teenaged Young Ones and plumb them for information," Shell sighed. "Either of you want to ask Sura on the off chance they thought she'd actually be in a position to choose the hideout?"

"Eh, might be a good idea for me to check in on her, come to think of it." Telki tapped her teeth thoughtfully. "I can work the conversation around to cover that, too." Telki nudged Shell. "Unless you want me to further traumatize the boys with my squishy emotions, you wanna tell them in Young One speak to chill a bit?"

"I can work that in," Shell grinned, stepping away from Gideon and blowing them both a kiss. "Think I'll change into my armor first. Demeus can't lie to me to save his life anyway."

Telki giggled. "The Forsworn armor?"

"No, my Nigh—er, my black sneaky thief armor," she said. "What I was wearing when you found me again in the Flagon."

"That'll do it." Telki wiggled against Gideon, "Apparently, it also does it for someone else."

"I have very fond memories of that armor." Gideon gave Shell a very heated look over Telki's head. "Wear it when you come back?"

"Perhaps," she dimpled at him, then glanced down to Telki, "Take care of him for me?"

"You know it. I was being extremely generous, letting you monopolize him like that. Now it's time for some…recompense."

For a long moment Shell stared at her with a somewhat blank look. "I have to go before I ask to stay," she said, fanning herself. If Telki had smoldered at Gideon like that when they first met, it was no wonder the poor man hadn't stood a chance.

"We can sandwich him when you get back!"

"Don't tease if I can't touch!" Shell called back, already making her way to where she'd stashed her stuff. Not in the least because Blaise had already found Chillrend once.

"You can touch him all you want."

Gideon could feel the heat rising right up to his ears. "Um, Telki?" He wasn't sure how he felt about Shell's feelings for Telki. For one, while he knew Telki had no problem at all loving Shell, it wasn't going to be the sort of love Shell actually wanted. If he could think of a means to spare her that pain, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

"Hmm?" Her hair pulled slightly against his tunic as she slopped her head up to catch his eyes. Strangely enough, it was a rather comforting feel, his solid bulk behind her.

"It wasn't me she was talking about."

Looking from him to the hallway Shell had vanished down with wide eyes, Telki gulped, "Holy carp."

.

* * *

.

Shell found Demeus on the way to the kitchen (it was a truism that teenage boys were always hungry for a reason). He halted, gaping at her, and Shell reached up and grabbed his ear on the way, dragging his yelping self behind her, slightly irritated that even though he wasn't fully grown he towered over her. "Where's Heron?" she asked, as if he wasn't holding her hand to his head in order to keep his ear from being ripped off—which it wasn't, but it certainly felt like it was.

"How should I know?" he groused.

She rolled her eyes, "You're a team."

"He's on the roof," the Redguard said after a pause in which to whimper.

"Thank you," she released his ear then half turned, giving him a deceptively mild glance as he turned. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Uh…" he swallowed, "Back to the kitchen?"

"Nu-uh. You're coming with me to the roof."

Demeus scowled. "If this is about what he said to that big lug, I wasn't even there."

"No, this is about something else," she said, facing forward again and moving on, knowing he'd follow if he knew what was good for him. There was silence for a few heartbeats, then a resigned sigh and dragging footsteps behind her.

Heron wasn't on the roof of the house, but he was a few over, leaning against the same chimney she'd spied on the children at the day she met them. He actually startled when she appeared in front of him, glancing over at Demeus still on the other roof, gaping at them. "Nice outfit," he finally managed.

"Thank you. Got it from a half naked woman with birds," Shell said, standing easily and striding over. Demeus finally managed to catch up, examining her with an unreadable expression as he walked over. She dimpled at him cheekily and he flushed, looking away and grumbling. "Now, what kinds of attributes were you two instructed to look for in a base?"

They both twitched, glancing at each other in surprise. Whatever they had been expecting, it wasn't that. "Depends on what we were being assigned to do," Heron finally said.

"Usually somewhere not too far from the public that five or more people would escape notice, but not so close all the coming and going would be notable," Demeus put in, looking intrigued. "So no inclusive neighborhoods that might as well be small villages, but not slums either, since everyone knows each other there, too."

"Place with enough foreigners or various races for a team to go unremarked," Heron was looking from Demeus to her with an amused gleam in his eyes. "Maybe a place for two different families, if the entire team was old enough to look like a set of friends settling down. Roof access a near-must, but sometimes alley access could do."

"Good enough landlord that the place wasn't falling apart, but not nosy," Demeus finished, shrugging. "Also weathertight or easily made so, with as little vermin as possible."

"Though that last part wasn't always a given," Heron wrinkled his nose.

"Yeah," Demeus agreed, wincing. "Once my team got bored enough we started tallying up cockroaches for fun. Rats were worth ten."

"Midges," Heron interjected. "Midges were  _the worst."_

"Alright, before you both try to one-up each other on memory lane," Shell cut in before that could go any further, "Are there any safehouses you know of in the Imperial City?"

Much to her disappointment but not surprise, they both shook her head. "I hope you don't want us to point out likely spots," Demeus shuddered. "After what happened to that other portal, I don't want to go near that one in the basement, let alone try it."

"I volunteer!" Heron said with a laugh, raising his hand. He leaned forward a bit, "Is there really a House of Sanguine on the other side? That's a riot."

"Yes, there is, and no, you can't see it," Shell replied, amused. Demeus turned a dark mulberry, made a strangled sound, and looked out over the cold city in any direction but hers. She didn't even want to know what was going through his head.

"So you've encountered another group of Dessnia's?" Heron persisted, sitting up completely, face grave.

"Sounds like," Shell sighed, raking her hair off her face. "I think you've both told me enough I can spot the kind of place they might hole up." She caught Demeus staring at her from the corner of his eye. "What?"

"What's the worst you ever had to live with?" he asked. "Out on a mission, I mean."

"Vermin-wise?" she asked, and he nodded. "My uncle. Now, shoo. I need a word with Mr. Too-Pretty-For-His-Own-Good."

Demeus scoffed a bit at the name. "Anyone we'd recognize?"

"Only if 'Ilmiyon' sounds familiar," she snorted, then watched him pale and nearly lose his footing. "That's what I thought. Now shoo."

"No wonder you ran off," Heron commented, watching her anew. Unlike Demeus' covert looks, Heron's assessment had nothing to do with her looks.

"Sailed off, technically," she said, kneeling next to him as he watched her warily. "On that note," she smacked him upside the head, having the satisfaction to watch his eyes bug out of his head for just a moment before he gave her a confused look. "You're not in Alinor anymore," she said simply, standing. She waited just long enough for understanding and a hint of guilt to enter his eyes before vanishing back into the shadows.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Galmar was having fun, though you couldn't tell it by the scowl sprawled liberally across his face. There was something very satisfying in making recruits cry. Of course, it wasn't until the pups learned they weren't big bad warriors already that he could start teaching them how to  _be_ big bad warriors. Or at least, enough they'd survive their first battle. But still, there was that visceral joy in watching that puffed up ego deflate like a jester's bladder. At least Blythe understood.

"HOLD! Dammit, Thorik, do you mean to cut Dankirg's balls off? Do you even know which end of a blade to hold?" Galmar strode into the practice ring, batting aside the practice blade before it could do damage to the unlucky recruit.

"Here's a hint," Blythe said, appearing practically at the young Nord's elbow, "It's not the pointy end." Thorik shrieked, so high pitched Galmar glanced about for Murril. It wouldn't have been the first time Galmar had found her hiding and watching the recruits, usually with that scamp Blaise.

"Save  _that_  for glass weaponry," Blythe suggested, pulling her hands from her ears. "Been looking for a good way to shatter that."

Galmar grunted. "Should hear him when he misses a block, then." Galmar pulled Blythe to him with one arm. "Now, do I need to call a break? You're here after filling my ears to brimming with how much work had to be done." Had he taken a moment to look about him, he'd have seen the entire yard brought to a standstill by his uncharacteristic affection. With so many jaws dropped to the ground, they'd not need to clean the ring for a month.

"Do you want to give them a break or a day off?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Right now, a month off sounds good." Galmar growled into her hair, squeezing her close. "Close your ears, love." Waiting for her to comply, Galmar bellowed over her head. "Dismissed! If I see any of you before daybreak, it'll be your hides. Off with you!"

"I feel I should start off with a bit of an apology," she said, watching the Nordlings race around, gathering their things and heading for…wherever young, normal recruits went when they had time off.

"An apology, eh? I've an idea or two about that," Galmar's rough voice softened as much as the permanent growl would let it, to match the adoring look in his eyes. Once the ring was free of peepers, a distinctive amulet was brought out from under his gambeson. "Any chance anyone's told you what this is?"

"Actually, yes. I assume, anyway. People neglected the 'describing special jewelry' part of the special jewelry talk," she said, unable to keep the smile from tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"We could discuss it further in my quarters, if you'd like?" Hope brought a faint rose to Galmar's cheeks, that hadn't blushed since Telki adopted him, and never before that.

Leaning up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, she murmured, "I'll meet you there."

"Alright. Don't take long." Galmar grumbled, looking somewhat crestfallen she'd not accompany him.

"I'll be there first," she sassed.

"Good, you can get the ropes ready then."

She winked, then disappeared in that annoying way all adult Young Ones seemed to have. Galmar shook his head in admiration and lumbered on back to his quarters. They'd just see who made it back first. He didn't have to sneak.

She was sitting on the windowsill when he came in, wide hips just barely fitting in the frame and frowning at the window as she moved it back and forth. "When's the last time you oiled these? They shriek like that Nordling."

"All the better to keep assassins from entering my room," Galmar smirked, then shrugged, "But, if you need the access, we can set up something else."

"Leave it; that way in a few years, we'll know when Bjartr's up to antics," she suggested, reaching back and pulling it shut as she hopped down.

Galmar's face lit up like the aurora. "Planning on the long haul, eh? Sure you want to tie yourself to this old bugbear?" Galmar pulled her to him, engulfing her in his warm arms. "I won't be able to let you go once you say yes."

"There's…some things we should talk about, first," she admitted, not wanting to spoil his mood but wanting to start out right. "Starting with my name."

Sensing her mood, Galmar settled them both comfortably in his oversized chair. "Alright. I'm listening."

She thought a moment, contemplating how she wanted to go about this, then hopped up and gave him a slight curtsy, like a Breton woman would when being introduced. "My name is Sorcha Meurig. I was born in Wayrest, and I've been officially dead for about three decades. How do you do?"

"Better if you weren't so far I couldn't comfort you. Get over here, woman."

Smiling slightly, she slid back onto his lap. "That was supposed to be a big moment."

"I know it, and you needed to know it changed nothing about how I feel for you," Galmar studied her expression. "It's not just me, though, is it? It seems there's another Meurig here in the castle, if I remember right."

Wincing and not bothering to hide it, Sorcha (not Blythe, not ever again) nodded. "Yeah. That would be my father. Which brings me to Breton traditions of meeting my father. Who thinks I'm dead."

Galmar thought a moment. "Sorcha." He liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. "Whatever you need of me, you should know already, you have it. I'm yours, have been since our first night."

Smiling up at him, a completely sincere, unironic smile, she leaned up and kissed him. "So I'm pretty sure I did the Nordic Jewelry Thing wrong, but we're on the same page of 'kidnap Erandur and say some vows?'"

"That would suit me fine," Galmar wrapped both meaty arms around her and hugged her close. "Now, about the meeting you're cleverly not trying to think about now that you've mentioned it. What do you need me to do?"

"Give me advice?" she half asked, half guessed. "The man thinks I've been dead since I was a child, I'm worried I'll have to break it to him my sisters actually are dead and that will be like losing them all over again and…Shell says he's ill."

"He's not as bad off as he was. He's been getting stronger and healthier. Being off the road and eating well solved a lot of his troubles. As to the rest?" Galmar hummed thoughtfully, still holding her close and slightly rocking her as he pondered the situation.

"I won't claim to know him well, but he survived thirty years in that hellhole thinking he'd lost all his little girls. I think having even one of them back, and that she survived the worst the Thalmor could throw at her, and kept enough spine to spite them? I think he would mourn your sisters, but would be damned proud and damned thankful to have you back." Galmar nodded, "That's what I think."

Sorcha thought about this for a long moment. "Still, maybe best to have a healer on hand? Or…I don't know. I don't want to shock him."

"Fine, we kidnap Erandur, meet your father, and then have our vows done." Galmar smirked, "We can tell him to have a Calm spell on hand for your father."

Her laughter rang out clear and strong. "'Hi, Papa! I'm alive! Now give me away!' How would  _you_ take that?"

Galmar shrugged. "I've no idea. I've nothing to compare with it. Besides, he's living here, I'm living here, and now you're living here. He's gaining family, not losing it."

"Oh, speaking of, I've talked Jorlief into giving me half his job," she scowled. "Man didn't know what he's doing with construction projects anyway. You may not be part of the Empire anymore, but would it kill people to look up the  _reason_ some building materials and methods were banned? Because it might kill them not to."

Galmar's rumbling laugh bounced her against him. "Shor's halls, but I love you."

"Talos knows how that happened, but I love you too," she said, deliberately invoking her childhood deity and snuggling down into his lap a little further. Idly, she wondered how long it would take him to remember to ask what she was doing here in the first place.

Not long, apparently. "Now, are you ready to answer the first question? What's brought you home finally?"

Thinking about that for a moment, she asked, "Before I tell you, do you mind if I get a cat?"

"Why would I mind you getting a cat?" Galmar gave her a look. "And why are you sidestepping the question?"

"I wanted to get that out before I forgot," Sorcha explained. "I really like cats. And I quit my job when the people trying to kill Tyr came to visit wondering why I was holding up production and decided I was better off out of production altogether." She smirked, "They certainly weren't expecting me to be a Young One as well."

Galmar kissed her long and deep. When he finally pulled back, he gently set her on her feet. "I've one question for you. Are they still breathing?"

"Probably not for long," she replied, amusing and a little thrilled at his response. "Talon's out looking for them."

"Damn straight." Galmar crossed to the wall where Helgrid hung on a hook, right next to his battleaxe. "Be back in a bit."

"They're not going to kill them straight away," she reminded him, catching his arm. "It's a team. That means there might be a few worth saving in there. And I sort of want to scratch the eyes out of the one in the warehouse myself."

Galmar huffed. "You're never going to let me run off to avenge anything, are you?" There was some humor dancing in his eyes. "Though I never figured you for an eye scratcher. An eye gouger or a gut ripper, sure, but not a scratcher."

"I only scratch when it's personal," Sorcha said, eyes flashing. "He wanted me to be scared, to be cowed. I looked in his eyes and wanted to scratch that gleam out of them. So I'm going to."

"Does that mean you'll let me gut him after?"

"Oh, certainly," she smiled, wrapping her arms around him and resting her chin on his chest so she could look up at him. "And I do plan to let you avenge things, just know where your target is first." A hint of heat entered her stormy eyes as she added, "I rather like the idea of you rushing off to bludgeon something for being stupid. It appeals to me quite a lot."

"I was rushing off to bludgeon something that dared threaten you," he grumbled back. "Stupid's too common, I'd wear my arm out." He wrapped her up in another hug. "So, can I haul you off to the bedroom now?"

"No, but we are very close to that part," she laughed, then turned her head slightly. "Want to go spend the night with Tyr?"

Bjartr moved and was abruptly visible, grinning at the two. "Sure." He scampered passed them, then paused at the door to offer a charming smile that bordered both shy and sly, "Mother."

Galmar rumbled happily, then swooped Sorcha up bridal style. "Ready for bed, then, Mother?"

"Sorcha," she reminded him. "My name needs a lot of use. I expect you to call it a lot tonight."

Galmar studied her face with an intensity known to make grown men squirm. "There's only one other more fitting, that I'd prefer to call you."

Eyebrows arched, she asked the expected, "And that is?"

"Beloved."

.

* * *

.

Telki stopped outside Sura's room, listening to the commotion inside. It did not sound like a room with a shy and quiet girl inside. It sounded, in fact, like her lovely bossy Lucia commanding troops.

"Move it a little more to the left, no, the other left. Thank you, that's perfect. Now if you'll just help me sort these pillows. Oh, Sura, would you like this one? I think between your shiny black hair and the deep red, it would look beautiful. Whatcha think?"

Telki pushed the door open and casually leaned against the doorjamb to watch her oldest in action, a slight smile on her face, and her tail lightly swishing at the tip. "Lucia, who have you commandeered for your workhorse now?"

"Oh, just a boy about as stubborn as one." Lucia handed the lush red pillow over to Sura to inspect. The girl smiled at it, surrounded on the bed with swaths of various bits of fabric from one thing or another, all of which had formerly been packed away in the attic.

Demeus snorted and rolled his eyes, moving the bed a fraction to the left.

"Okay, I gotta ask, how did this miracle occur?" Telki let the smile that'd been hiding at the corners of her mouth bloom in full.

"The usual way." Lucia grinned at her mother.

"Sweet Mara's Mercy, Demeus! Confess now, else she'll have you hauling chores for a month of Sundas! It's not worth it!" Telki looked at the poor boy in mock horror, ruined by the smile crinkles and wide grin she was still sporting.

"I am fully capable of reverse blackmail if she oversteps it," he said, standing and rolling his shoulders.

"Oh really?" Telki shook her head. Demeus was a fine looking young man, and the way he rolled his shoulders had no business even pinging on her radar like it had. She wondered if extra prayers to Mara were in order, surviving so many younglings just entering adulthood.

There was a hint of vindictive laughter in his ice-blue eyes as he glanced from her to Lucia and back again, "Wouldn't be very useful as blackmail if I answered that."

Telki actually cackled. "Oh, I kinda wish you  _would_ stick around. You're just the big brother Lucy needs to keep her in line." Telki watched Lucia's face go from comical 'oh noes' to a surprised 'huh, how about that.' There would definitely have to be offerings and possibly outright bribes made on Mara's altar later. No way Telki was surviving this without Aedric intervention.

He shrugged, then gave her a thoughtful glance, a hint of some less certain emotion hovering around his eyes. "I…might need somewhere to send my siblings, if they're still around."

"Shug, have you looked at the number of houses I have? You bring them children  _here._ " Telki grinned at him, "Besides, you might need help rounding them up and staying out of jail so you can help raise them."

"R-raise them?" his eyes grew so wide white could be seen all around the irises.

"Uh, yah? They're going to need someone to show them how to be adults. Who better than their big brother that loved them enough to find them and the insane people willing to help him?"

Sura started giggling at the look on his face. They only grew as the poor boy stammered something unintelligible and fled into the hallway.

"Now that I've got him thinking along lines he needed to have already been thinking, we needs to have us a discussion, my girls." Telki gave them her best serious look. "Well, Sura mostly, but I think some of it applies to my Lucia, too."

"Is it about bribery?" Sura asked, leaning over to peer into the hallways after Demeus's retreating form. "Because I think it's a good thing; I've known him two months and that's the first time I've seen him do that."

"Oh no, not even close. This is more about the debacle between Heron and Haffod and the reason for it." Telki waggled a finger at Lucia. "And the reason for it is why you're still in here. Welcome, dear children, to the age where feelings get really complicated, and angst sucks Thalmor toes."

"Who is Angst and what did they do wrong?" Sura asked, eyes wide even as her lips curled in disgust.

"Angst is a particular feeling, Demeus has been a walking advertisement for it right until Lucia happened to him. Tell me putting up with that wasn't worse than Thalmor foot funk." Telki crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow of challenge at Sura.

"I've never been asked to do that, so I wouldn't know," she said, looking like she'd really rather not think about it.

"I spent a day as a cat, and got too close to it, never again." Telki shook her head; that wasn't the important part. "Anyways, the foot funk isn't what I'm worried about, but the feelings and the confusion and the angst of the transition years. You have questions, no matter how silly or whatever you're thinking they are at the time, you come talk to me. I'd say Shell, but I think she wasn't allowed to be a young adult, as it were."

"What do you do when a boy says he likes you?" Sura asked instantly.

Telki smiled, and settled herself on the bed next to Sura, putting a comforting arm around her. "Well, that depends. How do you feel about him?"

Sura groped for words. "He's…comfortable?"

Telki tilted her head. "He makes you feel safe?"

"Um…not really. I mean, he'd  _try,_ but he'd probably be killed pretty fast, depending on who was coming at him, but that would make me very sad?" Sura tried.

Telki shook her head, "I mean, he makes you feel safe to be yourself?"

Thinking about that a moment, the girl nodded, "I suppose so. I'm not worried he's going to be mad at me for being stupid, or anything."

"Well, first and foremost, always be honest. He's entrusting you with his feelings, and that's a responsibility as much as it's an honor. So, if you think you might like him back, say so. If you don't know, say so, and if you don't like him, even though it'll hurt his feelings, say so. I'm always here to help you if you need to sort your feelings, or just need an ear to listen, or a shoulder to cuddle on."

Telki pointed a finger at the unnaturally quiet Lucia. "That goes for you, too, Lucia."

"I knooow." Lucia wrinkled her nose at her mom, before hugging Sura from the other side. "You're giving me that look again."

"We'll talk once Sura's comfortably settled."

Sura was actually rather unsettled, and couldn't hide it to save her life. "What do I do if I like having friends and I don't want anything to change?"

Telki rubbed Sura's arm and pulled her in closer to her side. "Then tell him so. 'I'm ready to be friends, but that's all I can be right now.' If he's any sort of friend, he'll give you that." Telki looked down, and Sura still looked just as worried as ever. "Promise, I'll be here whatever happens, and I'll support you. If I need to smack a boy down, he'll get smacked. You're safe, you're loved, and I sincerely doubt any friends you've made here are in any danger of being lost over this."

"Yeah, I can pretty much vouch for that. Whether you tell him yes or no, you're not losing anybody." Lucia propped her chin on Sura's shoulder. "Promise."

"So don't feel you have to answer one way or the other. Being honest is going to be best for you, and best for him, too."

Sura glanced from one to the other, blushing, "What if it all makes me very confused and I don't want to talk about it at all?"

Telki studied her face. "Need some time to think on it all? That's more than okay, just remember you have people to rely on now when you need them."

Shifting awkwardly, she glanced at Lucia, "Can we talk about the boys following you around instead?"

"Oh please, do tell: what boys, when, and was anything said?" Telki fixed Lucia with a very stern frown.

"Stormcloak boys, the other day, and they said 'Hello, beautiful,'" Sura said matter-of-factly.

Telki raised an eyebrow at Lucia. "Uh huh, and you didn't think that was worth mentioning, Lucia?"

"Uhm, not really, since Haffod loomed at them all, and sent them scurrying like mice. When did Papa Gideon teach him that trick, anyhow?"

"I think it comes as a package deal with the height." Telki shook her head, "Lucia, what would you have done if Haffod hadn't sent them scurrying?"

"Nod politely and keep walking, I suppose. Why?" Lucia looked at her mom expectantly.

"Because, my darling daughter, on top of the usual aches and pains of becoming an adult, you have Daedric issues."

"Oh goody," For a moment, Lucia felt her whole world tipping on its axis. How much of the attention she's been getting was for her, and how much for her daedricness? She wasn't so young anymore that she didn't know what  _else_  Sanguine got up to when he wasn't home. "Do you think it made them notice in the first place?"

"Lucia, you're pretty enough they'd notice either way," Telki assured her quietly. When the girl remained silent, brow puckered in a pensive frown, she added, "When you need to talk about it, we will."

"Okay. I may need to go lie down for a bit?" Lucia looked positively green.

"Are you alright?" Sura asked, trying the hug thing because Lucia looked awful.

Lucia snuggled into her embrace. "World changing realizations make my head spin. It may be some of that angst Momma was talking about."

"Um, oh. Well, if you want to talk about it with me, I'll listen, even if I can't help," Sura offered shyly.

"Thanks, Sura. First I have to sort it out enough I can talk about it." Lucia smiled back, though it was a little peaked around the corners.

Telki sighed. "Changing topic, activated. Sura, can you tell me about what Young Ones look for in a hideout?"

She shrugged, "Not too isolated, but in an area where a lot of people move in and out. Incurious landlord. I was mostly shown what markers they'd put out if I wasn't there when it was chosen. They never would have let me pick."

Telki smiled. "That's okay, my guys never let me pick campsites, either. Not after I parked us too close to a hive." Sura giggled, and Telki's smile widened. "There's my girl. Lucia? What can I do for you right now?" Telki soothed her daughter's back in a few long even strokes. "Your bed's in here, if you really want to lay down, I'll even sing your lullabye."

Ten minutes later, Telki smiled at her two sleeping girls. Lucia's lullabye was just the thing to sooth two emotionally exhausted girls to sleep. She kissed both brows, and quietly closed the door behind her. She'd cherish these moments while she had them, because her girls were growing up fast on her.

.

* * *

.

Sorcha was, if nothing else, extraordinarily good at getting around people without them realizing it. She had the feeling Galmar wasn't going to be too happy she used that trait to get out of bed without waking him, but he looked so content when he was completely unconscious, mumbling to himself and snoring slightly. She regarded him from the end of the bed for a moment, amused and finally able to admit that the little smile twisting her lips was affectionate. There was something to this "life is short" philosophy to Nordic courtship, after all.

Now where had that lump put her glasses?

Finally dressed against the cold, glasses in place but hair a hopeless tumble, Sorcha slipped out of the room and into the common area. Galmar had been much too enthusiastic for her to want to stop, but she had missed lunch the day before, and they both missed supper, and it might have been nearly three in the morning but she'd only just be going to bed on a normal day. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be much stray food in the sitting area.

The guard outside the door jumped half a foot when she closed the door behind her. She gave him a questioning look and he stammered, then glanced at Galmar's room and stammered again, then fled. Sorcha shook her head; between the accent and embarrassment, she hadn't understood a word.

"Figured you'd be out of there sooner or later."

"Well, no one ever accused you of lacking intelligence," Sorcha glanced over to where Bjartr pushed off from the wall, the soft grey of the pajamas he'd chosen blending right in. "Forget something?"

He smiled happily, "No, but I knew there wasn't a lot of food left in there. He wakes up about this time most nights and has a snack—he mutters to himself a lot. Anyway, since there wasn't much in there…"

"You came to escort me to the kitchen?" she asked, smirking.

"Well, they don't give kids sweetrolls," he dimpled at her. "They have no problem giving me fruit, but I need to bribe Blossom every once in awhile."

As someone who knew the value of a good bribe, Sorcha simply nodded and motioned for him to lead the way. Delighted, he strode beside her down the halls, pointing out little features that he'd memorized to keep him oriented. Most of the guards jumped when they got close, but a few of the more observant hailed them cheerfully, politely inquiring who Sorcha was and if his dad knew he was walking around with her in the middle of the night.

Finally, they emerged into the Great Hall, which was strangely quiet but still had a few nightowls taking advantage of the all-day light to read or do some little task that required steady lighting. She supposed Talon and Nala were still using the Cyrodiil house to get better acquainted, or he'd probably have been right there with them. As it was, only a few lonely figures graced the table; that yellow Khajiit that had Ulfric's undivided attention, fixing a bit of armor and looking like she had actually tried to sleep but given up, Telki's Dunmer husband that was interestingly talking to the woman, and a thin mage in hooded robes with a book and a cup of tea. At the front door a pair of guards stood at what passed for attention at this time of night. One of them yawned through his helmet.

Bjartr nattered happily about the new kinds of things the current cook was making, and how he was so much more interesting than the last one that quit because he thought the kitchen was haunted, and the boy hoped he'd stay. He was an Orsimer, which was interesting, and had apparently apprenticed the Gourmet himself, the boy enthused. Sorcha watched him bounce ahead of her with an inward snicker to how dismayed those that had bred him to be completely unnoticeable would be to see him now. Three in the morning and he was still half-covered in blue warpaint, and making enough noise one would be forgiven for thinking he was normal.

"Arienh?"

She froze, stiffening, as the incredulous query echoed softly to them across the hall. Bjartr paused and went as still as a nervous fawn when he saw her state, glancing at the mage staggering to his feet from the table.

"Arienh, what are you doing here? I thought we had everything…" he trailed off as she turned, slowly, grey eyes wide as they sought her father's brown ones for the first time in thirty years. He stopped, looking puzzled. "I'm sorry, I thought…I…You look just like my…"

Sorcha stared at him, feeling strangely unable to breath even as her chest heaved and her heart raced as if she'd been running. She wasn't ready. She hadn't planned this. She'd wanted to break it to him slowly, to have him told before she saw him again, both to cushion the shock and to save herself the possible rejection. Emotions crossed his face like cloudshadow on a field, but she couldn't talk to save her life, not to ease the confusion or to confirm the slowly dawning realization.

Finally, his face pale as the snow outside, he gulped out, "Sorcha?"

All she could manage was a jerky nod, hands curled so tightly her nails dug into her palms.

Tim's lips parted in shock, shadowed eyes wide enough to make him look owlish, then gasped as if struck, hand coming up to clutch his chest as he doubled over and slumped to the floor.

"Papa!" she shrieked, rushing over and skidding to a halt beside him, Healing light already arching around her hands as she pulled him up onto her lap. "Bjartr, go get…dammit, I don't know! Whoever's useful!"

The elderly Breton was staring up at her as if his heart wasn't actively rebelling against the rest of him. "You're alive," he whispered, trying to reach up. "You're alive!"

"Yes, I'm alive," she said, only managing to sound somewhat tart with her voice so choked with tears, "but you won't be if you keep trying to talk. Stendarr preserve me, but Mother was right."

"What's happened?" Erandur dropped down beside her, already searching out the damage with his healing.

"What's it look like?" she half sobbed, half snapped. "My father saw a ghost and his poor old heart didn't take it well."

"Hmmm," A relieved smile bloomed on Erandur's face, "it looks like that ghost might have just saved her father's life. You'll have time in plenty to explain the miracle to him."

"For a priest, you have a weird definition of miracle," she muttered, eyes still on her father as his heartbeat evened out under the combined efforts of two healers. "And you, don't think I'm not going to be on your case about taking care of yourself. I vividly recall having to remind you to eat and that apparently hasn't changed a bit."

"You're alive," was all Tim could say, tears running down the sides of his face and into the bone-white remnants of his hair.

"So, if I asked you to ensure he drinks a cup of sober mead a day?" Erandur's eyes glinted.

"If I have to hold his nose and dose him like a puppy, it will be done," she promised, cradling her father to her, golden light still glowing strong. "How have you avoided putting on any weight? I could mistake you for one of my quills."

"Send Bjartr for a refill any time you need."

"Oh, I will," she assured him, watching as Tim slipped right into sleep from the stress and Healing. "You know, the day the Thalmor came, he wasn't wearing socks? Lana had just darned them and they were hanging on the line. He couldn't find them, so he just put on his shoes and left. We'd all told him where they were."

"And you somehow thought he'd be better off without you," Erandur tisked. "I think it well may have been a blessing in disguise to do it this way. I happened to be here to help you, and you couldn't avoid it any longer."

"I wasn't planning on avoiding it, I was planning on planning it!" she protested. "And what are you doing here, anyway?"

"Both Ulfric and Wemie were having concerns about their budding relationship."

"Shouldn't they be talking that out with each other, then?" she asked. Tim's breathing had slowed, and his heartrate was normal. Color was returning to his face slowly. "Bjartr, could you be an absolute gem and get whatever it is my father is supposed to be taking? And then go ask your father to come here? Dressed, preferably."

"Sure thing," he assured her, examining his new grandfather curiously a moment before racing off.

"What they should do and what they are capable of doing are not always the same thing," Erandur smiled crookedly. "I can't tell you more without breaking confidences. Suffice it to say, they'll do the talking to each other in the morning."

"Well, if either one of them needs to know how to tie a good knot, I'm here to help," she muttered, then glanced up. "Shit, you're fast," she said, staring at the boy. Bjartr shrugged, grinned, and raced off again. "What are they feeding him?"

"At times, I'm sure it must be the west wind itself."

"He can grow up to be a courier," she said dully, popping the cork off the bottle and sniffing it's contents, then propping Tim up and slowly letting some dribble into his mouth, gratified when he swallowed instinctively. A little more color returned to his cheeks, and his lips stopped looking quite so pale.

"Bjartr said there's been an emergency? What happened?" Galmar glanced from Tim propped in her lap to Sorcha's tearstained cheeks. "Is it safe to move him to our rooms?"

"I think he's over the worst of it, just…be prepared for me to act a lot like my mother in the morning," she sighed. "Talos, I was hoping I would avoid that."

"Well, let's hope having me around brings out more Sorcha than Sorcha's mom. You're not looking after him by yourself. You have me and Bjartr to help." Galmar gently took Tim from her, and hefted him in his arms like a sleeping child.

"I can keep an eye on him," Bjartr promised, glancing from Galmar to Sorcha and back again. "You two sleep in. I got it."

Galmar raised a suspicious eyebrow at his boy. "Were it anyone else, I'd suspect mischief afoot or ulterior motives."

Rubbing his hands together gleefully, Bjartr said simply, "I get a grandpa."

Galmar chuckled, "Well, as ulterior motives go, that's a good one. Bjartr, the door?" Galmar nodded towards the door leading to their rooms. "I think it's safe to say Grandpa's a handful."

Hesitating a moment, Sorcha slid her hand into his, "Thank you." Galmar looked down at her with the softest expression to ever grace his craggy face, and squeezed her hand lightly.

"If not for you, then who?"

"You haven't really gotten a chance to introduce me to your friends, so I'll get back to you on that," she smiled wryly up at him.

"No one else, Sorcha. None but you." He murmured, and bent down to capture her lips with his, standing there in front of their door and still holding her father cradled in his arms. She stood on tiptoes to match him, then broke off with a laugh at a clang as the guard looked up and reeled back so hard his helmet bounced off the wall.

" _Leannán,"_ she said, giving him a mischievous look, "I do hope he likes you. We may have to make an announcement tomorrow. Or we could just wait to see what the gossips come up with. That could also be entertaining."

Galmar snorted as he bulled into their chambers. "Soldiers gossip worse than old women. By breakfast tomorrow, they'll be claiming I'm the new Dibellan Sibil or some such nonsense."

"They already suspect I'm your illegitimate child from some campaign somewhere and one of the other Young One kids told one of the guards that my mother was a fairy and that's how I disappear like that and some of them believed him," Bjartr put in, throwing pillows on one end of the couch. "And a few of the Stormcloak recruits from yesterday asked me if Sorcha was my mother at dinner. I told them she wasn't real. It was funny."

"I like this kid," Sorcha winked at him.

"Good, because you're as stuck with him as you are me," Galmar winked back at her as he laid Tim down carefully on the couch. "My arms were starting to cramp." Galmar swung them testily once Tim was comfortably ensconced. "Massage them for me?"

"Love to," she was already running her hands over them. Galmar rumbled in pleasure. "Do you think he'll be alright?" she asked, glancing at Tim worriedly. She was the pragmatic sort, and realized there was literally nothing more she could do, but that didn't stop the worrying.

"I think so. He has family now to make damn sure of it."Galmar wrapped her up in a warm hug. "He knows perfectly well you'd probably drag him back to yell at him if he isn't."

"Undoubtedly," she said dryly. She wasn't quite sure how Galmar would feel about the necromancy, but she hadn't been using it much lately anyway. Mostly, she did it to bug Talon. Dremora were a lot more useful, and moaned a lot less. Stank a lot less, too. Moving over to the couch, she helped Bjartr tuck Tim under the covers, fluffing his pillows just a bit before placing a small kiss on his brow. "I suppose we'll see in the morning."

"We will, and then we can have that talk you were looking forward to so much." Galmar chuckled evilly as he scooped her up. "But first, I think you and I had some unfinished business of our own."

"Good night!" Bjartr called as they disappeared into their room, wide smile on his face. He'd have to get the morning gossip from Pearl. Looking at the sleeping Tim, he told him, "I hope the next family member's a brother."


	34. ...And Appall the Free...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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The normal breakfast bustle was slightly subdued this morning, though there was no single obvious reason why. Sura was very thoughtfully keeping her eyes on her plate and only looking up when spoken to, Heron was just a whit less bright than normal, Demeus' glower was on full force, and Murril was trying to sleep on his arm as Frankie tried to get her to eat her porridge. There was already a substantial glob in her lap.

Shell sat between Gideon and Heron, the pair of them keeping a bracket between Haffod and the Young One. Her normal enjoyment of Gideon's sleepwalking was palled by the looks occasionally passed between the boys when they thought the other wasn't looking. Alesan seemed to sense something had happened, but Sofie was keeping him occupied with some kind of excited nattering about Sura making her doll a dress.

"So, Shell, Blythe ran into her father last night." Erandur sat down at the table, his plate more than half nontrinels and snowberry tarts. Lucia had insisted on learning to make them when she found out the treat was a memory food for Poppa Erandur.

"Oh?" she asked, putting down her utensils and trying to hide her worry. "How did that go?"

"I assume I'll be performing a marriage before the day is out, and Tim is now living with both Sorcha and Galmar. Something tells me you might want to check in on her this morning."

" _Living,_ living? As in, staying in the same apartments? With those two?" she tried to wrap her head around that.

"He gave us a scare last night. It took both our healing spells to keep his heart beating for a little there. Right now, it's mostly to keep an eye on his health. I'm sure Sorcha will continue to use that reason, and Tim won't object, if it means staying close to his little girl."

Smiling a bit at the use of her friend's birth name, she shook her head. "Have you even seen Tim's room? Man makes Nala look like a neat freak. It'll drive Sorcha mad within a week."

Erandur smiled, "Somehow, I don't think she'll mind all that much."

Gideon stirred next to Shell, looking more awake. "Blythe is named Sorcha?" He smiled. "I guess every man thinks his little girl's a princess." Shell quickly swallowed the bite of egg she was chewing and didn't comment. It could be argued that her own father thought of her as a princess, in a dynasty-building, offspring-as-legacy sort of way. Including finding her a nice, appropriate male to carry on his bloodline with.

Gideon looked around the table, frowning. "Where's Telki?"

Erandur looked up from his nontrinels, saw Telki had not followed him out, sighed, and trudged back into the kitchen. He returned shortly pushing a preoccupied Telki and the Wabbajack out. "No, you need to eat. It's actually more imperative you eat now than before. I'll take that until you finish at least one good plate of breakfast." Telki reached for it again, Erandur handed the Wabbajack off to Gideon. "No, eat."

"You are being entirely unfair, 'Randur." Telki grumbled as a plate heaped with her favorites was set in front of her.

"Yes, I'm a horrible frost troll for making sure you actually eat breakfast." His calm assurance would have done a Greybeard proud.

"Sort of odd seeing someone have to mother her, though I see where her kids learned to argue," Heron commented dryly, propping his head on his hand as he examined Telki.

Shell nudged his arm and he nearly faceplanted in his scrambled eggs. "No elbows on the table." Glancing at Gideon, she added, "And get that thing away from me."

"I'll just go put it back in its chest until Telki's done." Gideon kissed Shell before standing and kissing Telki across the table. "I'll be right back."

Before he could go more than a few steps, a sphere of Conjuration appeared with it's habitual metallic clang right in the middle of the living area. Sura, Demeus, and Heron all jumped and stared, but by now Telki's brood was so used to Sam's comings and goings they just turned and prepared to mob them. Lucia and Frankie were craning their necks with slightly hopeful expressions on their waiting faces.

Sam was in full Dremora mode at the moment, making Demeus actually yelp and Sura freeze in terror. Lydia stiffened but didn't comment. Merc looked tired and a bit rumpled; Sam looked conflicted and sheepish.

"Sam! You're wearing your painted face! Yay!" An enthusiastic blonde bolt launched itself into his arms, hanging from his neck. Frankie's wide grin faded just a little as he considered the Daedra's expression. "Are you okay now?"

Sam blinked, hands coming up to take some of the boy's weight. "How did you jump this high?" he managed.

"He's been practicing his running starts," Lucia quickly and bashfully hugged him around his middle. "And are you feeling better?"

"Uh," he glanced at Merc.

"He's still working on it," Merc helpfully supplied. "But he seems to be doing better now."

"Good! I missed you." Frankie scrunched his brows, for the first time getting a good look at Sam's head. "Am I going to grow a crown, too?"

"No idea," he said, putting the boy down and awkwardly patting him on the head.

"Is it okay if I hope not?" Lucia patted her own down, checking, before twisting a lock worriedly.

"Okay you two, Merc looks plum worn out, and Sam still looks a little unsteady. Why don't you come back in here and finish eating, and give him a moment to breathe?" Telki called from the table. "And don't think you aren't leaving without at least saying 'bye' this time, Sam!"

"I have something I'm working on!" he protested, "I have a lot on my mind!"

"And in the time you took to say all that, you coulda said 'bye!'"

"We can talk later, then," he sighed. "Bye." With that, he popped out again.

Shell pursed her lips. "Uh…did anyone else notice he neither slurred his words nor hiccuped once? Is he actually  _sober?"_

"Ooh, yeah." Telki gulped. "Heron, would you like to learn how to brew supermead? The sort that can knock Daedric Princes on their butts?"

Heron was still staring at the spot Sanguine had been. Haltingly, he moved his gaze to Telki. "Exactly how much truck with Daedra do you  _have?"_

"That one considers me a sister, the Mad One's crazy enough to marry me, Azura's a pal, I'm teaching Meridia manners, 'Cath's promised to loan me Scourge if Jyggy acts up again, and the rest can go blow snow."

There was a very long moment where he simply stared at her, wordlessly going over that in his mind. "May I be excused? I feel the need to have my feet level with my head."

"I know, it's a lot to absorb. Sure, go lay down a bit." Telki eyed her other Young Ones. "What about you two?"

"I'm fine," Sura said with a shrug, then offered a wan smile. "This doesn't seem all that overwhelming compared to other things that have happened lately."

Demeus had moved his plate back and had his forehead on the table. "Whatever," he grumbled.

"Y'know, you do things like that, Demeus, and I want to hug you." Telki reached over and grabbed the sober mead bottle. "Try a sip of this. It might help your equilibrium there."

"Thank you," he said flatly, but without prompting. He accepted the bottle, took two swallows, and put his head back on the table. Murril took the opportunity to snuggle further under his side, fully asleep without Frankie to keep her up.

Shell gave her an ironic thumbs up, mouthing "Progress!"

Telki shook her head at the shenanigans, took the sober mead, and walked over to where Merc was slumped in one of the chairs by the Great Hearth. "How are you, darlin'?"

"Mostly tired." Merc pulled her down on his lap and promptly fell asleep against her bosom.

Shell had frozen, staring at him. "Oh, crap. How long is he going to  _stay_  sober?"

"Come again?" Telki was stroking Mercutio's hair. Then unholy glee filled her eyes, and she started to chuckle. "Oh!  _Oh!_ I quite honestly have no idea. Probably for however long he's upset. On the plus side, he doesn't seem to even be  _thinking_  about recreational activities of that sort."

"As long as he doesn't feel miserable enough to sit in a room for five days eating my cooking while he's at it," she muttered, reaching for the salt then pausing as a thundering knock echoed through the house.

"I'll see who it is." Gideon moved easily to the door, looking through the slide to see Mehris and Valori with the twins on the other side. He opened the door for them. "Good morning! What brings you to visit so early in the day?"

"Ralof's sleeping," Mehris said, pouting slightly, "so we got bored."

"So we went to explore the rest of the castle," Valori explained, "and ran into the scary poofy mortal."

"She said as long as we weren't doing anything, we should make ourselves useful," Mehris looked conflicted.

"Well, she did after the bear-headed mortal that likes to growl assured her that we were supposed to be there and she didn't need to Banish or Bind us," Valori exchanged nervous glances with her wife.

"The Royal Grandson arrived and rescued us," the Saint shivered.

"And you're here with an escort of children?" Gideon did give steering the conversation a heroic try.

"They're being useful bringing us here to fetch you to an information meeting," Pearl put in calmly from where she held Blossom and Orien's hands. "Father and Mother also request that we remain during the meeting, so Blossom can socialize more." Her little sister pouted.

"While they stay here and help ride herd?" Telki offered from the cuddled up and snoring Merc's lap.

"Yes please!" they chorused. "Please let us hide here," Valori finished, black eyes wide.

"Valori, Mehris, I thought I made it clear you're always welcome in my home?"

The daedra squealed and rushed in, sandwiching Telki and the unconscious Merc between them. "Oh, you're such a good Queen!" Mehris cried.

"Eh, just trying to be a decent person first and foremost." Telki tried, but there was too much boob to protect Merc's face from suffocation, and he jerked awake with a loud snort.

"What?" Mercutio tried to get his bearings, but all he could see were bosoms everywhere. "Am I still in the Grove?"

Telki giggled. "Valori and Mehris are watching the children while we go to a meeting. Do you need to stay and sleep?"

"Yes. Right now, I couldn't light a candle, and am only pretending to coherence."

The Seducer giggled, leaning back and letting him breathe. "Sorry, Lord Mercutio. Would you like us to help you to bed?"

"And maybe the Queen as well," Mehris said, still cuddling Telki. "She needs a lot of rest for her Bean."

"Shouldn't we rest, too?" Valori asked, frowning. She wasn't tired.

"Perhaps later. We're not mortal. They are very delicate," Mehris said with a slightly condescending tone.

"Ladies, I think my presence was requested for the super important meeting, and Mercutio definitely needs some sleep." Telki brushed his hair back from his forehead. "I'd say bath first, but he might drown in this state."

"I can make it to the bed, and I'll change the sheets when I get up." Mercutio steadied Telki as she slid off his lap, and then allowed her to use her bodyweight to pull him out of the chair. Stern looks and one 'ahem!' accompanied the overly helpful and handsy attempts to get Mercutio's perfect tush out of the chair. The Saint and Seducer smiled at her innocently.

"Girls, Gideon can help him to bed, why don't you go with the littles and let them teach you how to play Hide and Seek?"

They looked at each other questioningly. "Isn't that…?" Valori began.

"Mortals probably don't use spears for it," Mehris said, though she looked uncertain. "Or fish."

Shell snorted, "Finally," she muttered, "someone worse than me."

"We'll play," Valori agreed. "Just let us know where the spider eggs are."

"Maybe we should sit down and discuss the rules of the game, first?" Lucia, still shuddering over spider eggs, took their hands and lead them to the littles' room.

Pearl was staring after them in vague horror, "What did they plan on doing with those?" she asked. She was not a fan of spiders, even less so after meeting the ones in Skyrim.

"Momma Wynni uses them in potions?" Frankie offered from the vicinity of her elbow. He'd moved to her side the moment he got the opportunity.

She just shuddered and allowed him to hug her, even if she was a bit bemused about why the boy was so attached to her. Maybe he just liked lightning magic?

"That's gross," Blossom asserted. She'd already located Shell's lap and deposited herself there. Orien had hopped up next to Murril and was watching her curiously as Demeus eyed him, wondering what new surprises were coming.

"I seem to have a sister on my lap, preventing me from moving," Shell said dryly. "Someone else want to go get Talon from Mittens' and let him know what's going on?"

"I'll go!" Orien volunteered enthusiastically. He'd been craning his head upside-down in an effort to see Murril's face before coming to the reluctant conclusion that yes, she was asleep. Since whatever Murril did was usually just as entertaining as whatever Blaise or Blossom came up with, he was a bit disappointed.

"How about we both go, eh?" Gideon wandered back in, ruffling the little boy's hair.

"Really? Can I?" he begged, violet eyes sparkling with excitement.

Gideon raised his eyebrows at Shell. "Is there any reason Tyr or Fey would object to me escorting him there and back?"

"Nothing too objectionable about Mittens' house," she shrugged, then paused, "I don't think," she added, recalling that she wasn't always the best authority on what was alright for children.

"I'll wait at the portal door. If anything's happened, just pass him back through to me. Easily solved," Erandur offered.

Deciding that meant it was time to go, Orien launched himself on his second favorite grown Nord and clung to him like a monkey. Blossom looked proud.

"Alright, we're off, then." Gideon hoisted the little boy higher on his hip, and sauntered down to the storage room, Erandur right behind him.

.

* * *

 .

Talon and Nala were once again sitting on the floor of their room, going through endless amounts of parchment as they figured out the vagaries of permaportals, Nala writing frantically as ideas came to her while Talon looked over her shoulder, arms around her waist and an amused look in his eyes, offering the occasional comment or two but mostly marveling at the sheer scope of what she was creating. She paused when he stiffened and looked toward the door.

She sighed. "We're about to get company, aren't we?"

"Sounds like Gideon," he confirmed, reaching up and pulling his hair back before pulling her back against him for a quick, searing kiss. He'd never had a lover quite so physically affectionate, but found he rather liked indulging her. "Besides," he murmured against her lips, "you have a breakfast date, if I recall correctly."

"Nope, I don't recall. I do know I need more kisses, though, especially if we're about to get interrupted." Nala sealed her mouth to his, kissing him deeply.

Had it been simply Gideon, they would have had warning before the door sprung open. Since Orien was still learning, they were suddenly accosted by a happy five year old boy launching himself at them. "Talon! Nala!" he cried, announcing himself just in time to avoid Talon's instincts reacting in an unfortunate manner.

"Orien?" Nala quickly grabbed the airborne boy and folded him into her lap.

"Hi, Nala!" he chirped, snuggling in and casting his eyes over the papers curiously.

"I believe your parents have covered the importance of knocking with you, little one?" Talon put in urbanely, silently thanking Auriel that the boy had called their names. For a moment he'd thought someone had set a scamp on them.

Looking slightly guilty, the child pouted. "I was excited."

"You'd think I'd be prepared at this late date for that sort of maneuver." Gideon stood in the door, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I thought I had a grip on him. Sorry."

"Orien, how did you escape Gideon's grasp?" Talon asked, tilting his head at the boy.

"I twisted and wiggled a little," he replied cheerfully. "I did it all at once so he wouldn't be able to hold me still. It's how I get out of baths sometimes when I still want to play."

"Remember that if someone ever tries to carry you off again," Talon advised.

"Kay!" he replied, snuggling into Nala, who had a soft mage robe and lots of nice soft hair and was in general very soft and nice to snuggle. He could see why Talon had chosen her to snuggle with, when he'd never seen Talon snuggle anyone else.

"So, Talon, there's a meeting, and you've been requested. It seems there's been a few developments."

"I'm aware," Talon replied, disentangling himself neatly and rising. "Though I was told the meeting would most likely happen in the afternoon, simply to give Blythe some time to sleep in."

Gideon shrugged. "I've no idea then why they sent me so early, but sent I was, with accompaniment."

"Can I stay here with Nala?" Orien asked, blinking large guileless eyes up at them.

"Ummm, Talon? Pretty sure Professor Grandpa would fall in love with him, but, is it safe?" Nala looked worriedly from the bundle of adorable in her lap to Talon, with 'pretty please' written large in her eyes.

"I'm fairly certain his sister would invade Cyrodiil to find him," Talon told her dryly. "I'm not entirely sure which one would be in the lead, either."

"Yeah, and just think if she found out you had sweetrolls without her," Nala informed Orien with horror on her face. "I think that's a hanging offense."

"There's sweetrolls?" he asked, looking around with interest.

"There's probably fresh sweetrolls back at the house. Lucia was learning to bake," Gideon reminded the boy.

"Ooh," he said, hopping out of Nala's lap and turning around to try to drag her to her feet. "Let's go get some!"

Nala whined, "Yeah, but I have a promise to keep to Professor Grandpa. Save me one?"

"I wanna meet your grandpa!" Orien enthused. "Hey, a cat!"

"How about next time, I bring you  _and_  Blossom, with Shell's permission?" Nala looked over. "Oh, hello Flavi…..oh, hello Mittens." Nala was slightly embarrassed. Someday, she might learn to look before opening her mouth, but apparently it wasn't this day.

The man was sitting on his knees on the floor, staring at Orien with wide eyes and his hands on his cheeks, looking not unlike Fanny when he saw Rommy. "Oh, a small child! He's so tiny!"

"Mittens, I'd like you to meet Orien. Orien, this is my friend, Mittens."

"I like your ears," Orien grinned.

Mittens blushed and reached up, feeling along the soft velvet. "This one thanks you."

"You're welcome!"

"Hmm," Nala dusted off her robes. "It's about that time. I guess I'll head out for the Professor's, and you go see about this mess only you can fix. Think Blossom would want to meet my Professor Grandpa?" Nala asked the last question of Orien.

He shrugged, "If he gives her sweets and lets her play with her daggers."

"Yeah, I can't wait for next week now," Nala snickered.

Talon shook his head, assisting Orien in assisting Nala to her feet before glancing at Gideon. "If we may have a moment?"

"Certainly. Mittens, would you care to show Orien around? He's not met Flavius yet, either." Gideon gently guided Orien and Mittens back out the door, leaving Nala and Talon alone.

"Goodbye kiss? To tide me over?" Nala blinked her big blues at Talon, pulling him to her by his coat front. His arms snaked around her back and held her against him, smiling inwardly when she started purring immediately.

"Enjoy your friend," he murmured against the top of her head, "And do try to avoid throwing any spells at others this time?"

"I makes no such promises. Some people just beg for it," Nala pouted at him. "I'd enjoy this trip more if you came with."

"Perhaps next time," he nibbled her pouted lip, amused. "We know there are more Young Ones in this city, however. It would not do to be seen with me at this juncture."

"There you go using logic against me. No fair. Fine, I'll be a good little Khajiit."

"I will refrain from pointing out the loophole in that particular choice of words," he reminded her as she wrinkled her nose at him.

"Go, do, before I pull you back to bed and it can all go hang." Truthfully, with him there before her, looking like a romance novel come real, she was leaning towards letting the world go hang.

"I can see why you caught Sanguine's attention," he teased her drolly, stepping back and lifting her hand, placing a kiss on the back of it just as returning footsteps heralded the return of the others.

"Not my fault you are irresistibly hunky." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm still trying to figure out if that was an insult or not."

The thumb brushing across her knuckles briefly reactivated the Restoration pattern he'd traced over her. "Not in the least."

Nala gently pulled Talon to her, so she could lean on his broad chest. "Good for you, then. I'd hate for you to ruin my sense of adequacy showing just how much I can't kick your tail." His touch on her knuckles had all the places he'd already caressed her lighting up like the aurora. If he thought for one moment she'd let him out the door after that, he had another thunk coming. Her knees were about to dump her on the floor.

"Are you actually cuddly, Talon?" Orien wanted to know from the doorway, watching them pensively.

"Not especially," he replied. Nala's muffled groan came from his chest region.

"Doesn't that hurt, Nala?" he asked, tilting his head curiously as she banged her head into her lover's chest. "Talon's kinda skinny, so there's bone right there." Nala finally stopped and just whined.

Gideon took a moment to collect himself. It was one thing to hear it had happened. Quite another to see it for himself, and it startled him how much it resonated with what he and Shell experienced, probably for the same reasons. "Orien, let's go wait for them at the doorway. I think they need a moment to collect themselves." He hoisted the little boy on his hip. "I can toss you through to Erandur, if you like?"

"Toss me!" he crowed excitedly, bouncing. Gideon tossed and caught the little boy lightly all the way back to the portal, leaving Talon and Nala to collect themselves.

"I'll see you later," he promised her, lightly brushing his fingers along her jaw. "You'll be late if you linger."

"I'm going to be thinking about you the entire time," Nala promised. "Professor Nevio is probably going to be quite tired of your name by the end of my visit." She motioned towards the door. "Shoo. I cannot even think about going as long as you're right here within arm's reach."

"Get talking about magic; you'll forget all about me," he assured her with a small smile.

Her brows drew down, and she really did pull him to her by his coatfront. "Never."

"We'll see," he replied, truly amused now. Giving her one last kiss on the brow, he headed for the door.

Nala watched that beautiful body all the way out of her sight. She sighed. Apparently, the mer had absolutely no idea precisely how wound up he was in all her thoughts. Everything was going to make her think of him. She'd probably even get a goofy grin staring at a bowl of fruit…if it had a banana in it. She finally shook her thoughts loose, and headed out herself. She had a tea party to attend.

.

* * *

 .

Telki followed Erandur to the door, a thoughtful look on her face. "I'm not going to the meeting."

Erandur hummed as he turned around to her. "I can't truly say I'm surprised. You're staying to try the Wabbajack again?"

"We need him. I don't think we can pull this off without him."

"Oh, we could." Erandur pulled her into a comforting hug, "You give yourself too little credit."

"Fine, we most likely could, but the price would be too high."

"True enough. So go bring our Romulus back. Gideon and I can speak for you at the meeting." Erandur let her go with a swat to her backside.

"Erandur!" Telki gave him a shocked glare. He only smiled and waved as he quickly exited the building.

Telki was once again left glaring at the recalcitrant staff, going over what she had tried and wracking her brain for something she hadn't as her eyes traced the trifold face. She swore the thing was laughing at her.

"Whatcha doin?" Telki nearly startled right out of her stripes.

"Don't do that, Blaise! I nearly  _fus_ ed you to the moons!" Telki took a deep breath and regarded the staff in her hands. "I'm trying to figure out how to open a doorway to the Shivering Isles with this thing, but I can't figure it for the life of me."

"Is that all? It's easy." Blaise took the staff, tapped 'shave and a haircut' on the floor with it, and handed it back to her. "Like that."

Telki stared at her son in open-mouthed amazement as a doorway to the Isles opened before them. "Blaise? How? When?"

"What?" the boy looked honestly confused. "You taught me the pattern? I thought you knew."

"When did you open a door to the Isles?"

"Uh, remember the chicken guard? Uh yeah, then. Bye!" Blaise quickly made his escape. Telki pinched her nose, breathing in deeply before sighing it out. She had a Rommy to collect. Her nerve-wracking son could wait. Twirling the staff up to rest against her shoulder, she did mental inventory of what she had on her, nodded, and leapt into the portal.

The ground puffed dust around her as it rushed up to meet her, dull and grey and nothing like how she was used to most of the Shivering Isles looking, save for deep into Dementia. Her surroundings were nearly as dark as night, though her Khajiit eyes enabled her to pick out details after a moment, noting the heavy mists obscuring trees like dead spiders curled onto their backs, legs reaching for the sky and attenuating into delicate strands cloaked in moss.

Telki glanced around, more than half expecting Rommy or Sheo to materialize beside her, but there was nothing but mists and flora (or fauna, it was sometimes difficult to tell the difference) for as far as her eyes could see. Figuring he'd show up once he realized she was there, she shrugged and started walking. Sooner or later, all paths led to New Sheoth.

.

* * *

 .

The streets were relatively empty between Hjerim and the Palace of Kings. Gideon and Talon walked in their own pocket of silence, passed only by the occasional guard or hurrying servant. Sounds from the Stone Quarter echoed over the houses to them, but around them the air was still, save for the languid swirl of falling snow.

Gideon had been thinking, after watching the two of them, and thought perhaps Talon might appreciate a sounding board. He took a deep breath. "If you need an ear, mine is willing."

"An ear for what, Gideon?" Talon asked, glancing over at him. In this new world of being surrounded by smaller, shorter races, it was almost startling not to have to crane his neck to look down at who he was talking to.

Gideon's lips quirked. "I have a relationship with both Telki and Shell, mine may be the only ear to fully appreciate your situation."

"Ah, you're talking about Nala," he stated, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Gideon rubbed his neck. "I do not wish to pry, but Shell has questions, and I worry you might not realize you have someone willing to listen, and offer advice if you wish it." Gideon could feel his color rising, "I saw a bit of myself and Shell in that room and it got me thinking."

The mer examined him for a moment, stepping around a pile of slush. "How so?" he asked curiously.

Gideon's eyebrow rose. "Talon, I know rocks more forthcoming than you. I understand why, given you survived the Thalmor as long as you did because you don't talk, but you have people who are willing to help, who care, and I simply wanted you aware of that. Nala is Telki's sister; there will be things she does, thinks, or feels you might not feel equipped to handle. Between dealing with Shell's situation and Telki's exuberance, I thought I'd be useful, and simply wanted you to know I'm here if you want or need me."

Thinking on that, Talon finally replied, "Nala is somewhat more enthusiastic than any lover I've had, but I find that rather intriguing about her. She has a curiosity, a thirst for knowledge, that I've lost. I feel it again through her. Although," he shook his head with a slight, self-deprecating smile, "I admit I might still find it a bit much had I not spent time with Telki beforehand, getting inured." So far Nala had only demonstrated Telki-levels of zeal when magic was involved, which he found more endearing than exhausting.

"She's gotten better. She used to pounce." Gideon had to shake his head to wake his jaw muscles up. They'd dumped his jaw somewhere on his chest. This was probably more personal information than Talon had ever shared with him before.

"I am unsurprised: I've heard a very censored version of how she met Erandur," Talon was inwardly laughing now, both at the tale and Gideon's reaction. He allowed a bit of it to show in his expression. "I have yet to hear how you met, however."

Gideon coughed. "Well, it wasn't anywhere near that…memorable. I was cleaning out a bandit nest, and then suddenly, they all started dropping before I could hit them with the hammer. Telki and Erandur had mistakenly thought I was out-numbered. I was then adopted by a furious dovahkitty and her laughing cleric husband."

"And you were quite lonely before that," Talon stated, regarding him soberly.

Gideon's shoulders shifted restlessly. "I knew what it meant to be given Shor's hammer. None of the tales of old ended with a long life and grandchildren. I thought it was better that way. Telki felt otherwise, strongly and loudly."

"And that is why you felt such kinship with Shell?" he inquired, pausing so a cart could pass. He hadn't realized Gideon had been gifted with the Aedric Artifact; he'd assumed he'd either earned it through some ritual in his Order or held a particular office. Still, Gideon didn't seem particularly doom-driven. He hoped when the man's purpose became apparent, it wasn't as devastating as other Aedric Champions.

"Shell broke my heart on so many levels. Perhaps I picked up Telki's need to fix things, and tumbled headfirst into love while I was too busy trying to make things right for her."

Talon actually laughed. "You are a paragon of your calling, Gideon. I've never heard a statement more clearly made by a paladin."

"Thanks, I think?" Gideon was confused, but he made the stoic Talon laugh. He was going to call it a win.

"In general, paladins are good people, in their own way. They do not make paladin if they are not, though I have seen some turn into zealots. None of your Order, not in recent decades, anyway." He was quiet a moment. "I appreciate your offer. I gather Shell has been nearly bombarding you with questions regarding her actions?" he gave him a sideways glance, wondering if the girl had let all her barriers down yet. He'd seen the sheer difference in her when she'd returned from her apprenticeship, but even he couldn't tell what walls she'd erected.

"Mostly she's worried she's going to overreact with the children." Gideon's shoulders heaved with a heavy sigh. "But there've been other things as well." Gideon slid a grin at Talon. "I'll be happy to help you with any kid related questions, too."

"I suppose I should offer the same for dealing with Young Ones, Shell included," Talon said placidly.

Gideon nodded. "I'd appreciate it. The biggest problem for me has been convincing Shell she's a person worth loving. I want to take my hammer to the Thalmor all over again when that happens." Gideon stopped, "Eh, as to our foundlings? At the moment, the one that worries me is the one wanting to run off and get himself killed."

"In a sense, the matters are not unrelated," the mer said. "And you'll have to be more specific."

"He was ten when his mother sold him to the Thalmor," Gideon related what the boy had told them with a sour taste in his mouth. "He wishes to find her and kill her. His plans go no further than that, other than to find any other siblings he may have."

"I am only surprised that Dessnia has not capitalized on that," Talon said with some puzzlement. "That is normally the sort of thing she uses to ensure their loyalty, and she is quite thorough with her male courtesans."

Gideon growled. "Shell said he had markers for both courtesan and saboteur. Could that be why?" Gideon puzzled over the pieces of information Talon gave him. He'd kept hearing how this Dessnia didn't throw anything away, and yet here she'd managed to let a prominent emotional hook slip?

"He may have escaped her notice if there was another Young One that took her interests strongly enough," Talon suggested, reading the man's musing off his expression. "It is how Sura was overlooked, after all."

Gideon shuddered, realizing the woman had been using them as a personal harem. "Just when I think a Thalmor couldn't sink any lower."

"Dessnia craves attention. She demands it," Talon said with a bit of a sigh, "She also finds ways to ensure they feel personally tied to her, always making herself appear as their benefactor. Most of the Young Ones that make it to Dessnia's estate are male, simply because she cannot get the validation she craves from bringing in girls. I don't even think she realizes she does it. Very few female courtesans remain with her unscathed. In some ways, she treats them worse than Faloniril did, but she does send them elsewhere for training. Fey had quite a few students among them."

"Well, there's only one question, at this point." Gideon could feel a stress headache building, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How do we keep Telki from haring off after her blood?"

"Make her wait until there is a solid plan in place, then let her go," he replied with complete seriousness. The woman was a snake and fully deserved any punishment she brought upon herself.

"I'm putting you in charge of that. I have no idea how."

"I've already been working on it. Shell assisted by identifying and destroying her orphanages. In order to defeat Dessnia, she needs to be lured out, because the vast majority of her Young Ones feel she saved them from living as normal war orphans, and they're not entirely wrong. She gives them jobs, skills, purposes…in essence, she's been perfecting her own little cult to her benevolence for the last hundred years. It may be impossible to fully root out her network."

The headache was spreading. "Wonderful, so if Telki goes in there, she'd be seen not as a rescuer, but a menace."

"Just so. It is best to slowly leech the power from her. Even were all her orphanages destroyed, however, she still has second and third, perhaps even fourth generation Young Ones. Unlike many, many others, Dessnia does not begrudge them families, so long as she approves the match. They are not even always with Young Ones. I have met several who met their spouses while living their fake lives, and wed them the same as if they were ordinary." A hint of bitterness entered his tone, "More of her 'generosity.'"

His heart positively aching for the mer, Gideon laid a sympathetic hand to Talon's back. There really were no words, the wealth of pain and mixed feelings Talon had managed to suffuse in those four words told a tale to make a rock weep. In the quiet that followed, Gideon realized 'be more specific' had more than one meaning. He wondered what that meant for Heron's state of mind, and if that might be why Fox showed up.

"As to your earlier offer," Talon said suddenly as the Palace doors came into view. "I appreciate it. Nala is a very open and affectionate person, and I know my not being so will likely hurt her a time or two."

Gideon's brows drew together in thought, as if searching for something to say. "That is a quandry. I think…"

" _There_ you two are! We've been waiting. Come! See the zombies on parade, even Fey looks rough. It's amazing, c'mon! What are you two still standing there for!" Ama had swarmed them and was enthusiastically pulling on their arms trying to tug them faster down the hall. "You gotta see this!"

Talon sighed ruefully. He'd gotten used to Nala's brand of enthusiasm: Telki's and Ama's, however, he was still adjusting to.

.

* * *

 .

Galmar rubbed what felt like a pound of grit out of his eyes. It had been a tumultuous night. He'd had those before, but they generally involved more rope and less father-in-laws. His mind was still half hung on how much his family life (as in, having one) had changed, rather than kicking a bunch of backstabbing prissy pants in the arse.

"Looks like you could use this." A beautiful mug full of aromatic life wafted under his nose.

Galmar took it reverently with both hands. "Thanks. I don't think any of us got enough sleep for this last night."

Erandur chuckled, and sat down with his own huge mug. "No, we didn't. Not even people you'd usually expect to sleep like logs." Erandur nodded across the table. Galmar's eyes narrowed to see Ulfric and Wemie, both flushed and their eyes everywhere but on each other. There was no stopping the low rusty chuckle, so Galmar indulged. "Damn, Mara finally struck him, eh?"

"Like a brick wall," Erandur smugly snickered.

"Priests shouldn't look so evil," Sorcha remonstrated, sinking down next to Galmar with a pile of papers. "That father of mine needs a constant secretary. It took me forever to find these in his room, and he only has what he could carry on his back!" Her hair attacked Galmar's hood as she sat, static clinging to everything in reach that could even remotely hold a charge.

"Here, let me get that before you start a fire." Galmar stood, taking her hair in hand, and braiding it out of the way. There may or may not have been some stroking involved. Galmar would never tell.

"Thanks,  _Leannán,"_ she said, glancing up at him with a smile only shadowed by the bags under her eyes. "Poor thing got frightened. No children this time; just the state of my father's rooms."

"Do I want to know what all the papers are?" Shell asked, sliding a steaming mug across the table. She needed Sorcha at her best, not tired and worried.

"Nothing we don't already know about, just documented evidence to support it," Sorcha promised, smothering a yawn.

"Great," she replied, striding over to camp at the door, waiting for Gideon and Talon to show up.

"How's Tim doing?" Tyr asked them, settling across from Galmar with his own cup. It seemed no one had slept well the night before, for one reason or another. Even Fey looked slightly less than perfect.

"Better now that Sorcha can sit on 'im, and Bjartr won't let him forget his medicine or eating," Galmar rumbled. "Seemed to do him a world of good to have a boy listening to his histories, too." Galmar raised his brows at Sorcha. "Did I forget anything?"

"No, you pretty much have it covered,  _Leannán,"_  she said with a hint of amusement. Galmar winked at her. "So what has you two looking like ordinary, less-than-perfect people?"

Fey shot her a sharp look but Tyr shrugged, "The Palace shaking last night? That wasn't us. That was Orien. He's started having nightmares about the kidnapping. One of the guards tried to shake him awake right before we got there. Blossom…well, luckily she's too small to be able to lift his sword very well after she stole it."

Galmar could only shake his head. "Poor kids."

"Thank Talos neither of us is Dragonborn," Sorcha muttered, contemplating that.

"Damn straight, we're dangerous enough as is. " Galmar buried his face in his mug, chugging the still warm coffee.

"Look what I found lollygagging in the hallway!" Ama ushered both Gideon and Talon into the room, looking quite comical with the both of them towering over her.

"Do I even want to know what you two were discussing on your walk?" Shell asked.

"Women and children," Talon supplied. Gideon had trouble choking down a laugh. He could only imagine how Shell took Talon's answer: If her blank face and wide eyes were any indication, it was bound to be good.

"Er…well, anyway," Shell cleared her throat, nervous suddenly, "Now we're just waiting on Telki, though given the way she's been spending all her time throttling a stick, someone may have to go get her."

"She won't be here, unless she brings Rommy with her," Erandur offered from his spot at the table. "Jyggalag was pretty clear on the importance of having Romulus there."

"Great," Tyr sighed, sitting back. "Both Dragonborn and  _Rommy specifically._ I can't even count all the implications." Learning Rommy was the Mad God had put a whole different meaning to that particular demand, but he wasn't sure who all knew already. If he was the last to know…he shook his head. How embarrassing.

"Let's start with what we do know, before we start on implications." Gideon massaged the bridge of his nose. "Do we know who will be there, or where it might be held?"

"As of me leaving yesterday there was no scheduled meeting," Sorcha said with a bit of irritation. "Honestly, to have a meeting in a week would require them to call it within the next day or so, just to get the minimum number of Councilors to attend. Most of them are on their estates setting up spring plantings and picking up whatever disaster winter left them."

"What is the minimum number to call a council?" Wemie asked. "Let's start there."

"For a matter of this magnitude?" Sorcha asked, "Twenty. Otherwise, they've been known to sit in with as little as five."

"This worries me," Gideon sighed, "If they are confident enough to call as many as twenty, what do they have planned in the next two days?"

"Sorcha, is there precedence of them sneaking a major matter through with a smaller council?" Ama looked puzzled.

"I just told you," Sorcha groused at Gideon, " that they haven't called the darned thing, yet. And in a sense," she turned to Ama, "if they can find a way to make it seem trivial, but any mention of the throne or succession what so ever and anything they decide will be called up for a second vote."

Ama gave Sorcha a look. "You mean like trying to pass assassination payments through as run-of-the-mill paperwork?"

The Breton snorted. "Turning in a bond out of season is not a Council matter. However, ordering the execution of someone aiming for the throne—especially with no heir named—most certainly is. This is a conspiracy at the moment, and I'd like to know what is going to burst it into 'official' official record."

"But it wasn't just an assassination attempt, they also made a play for the children." Wemie pointed out, lifting her chin from her hand. The bags under her eyes were probably as much from Orien's nightmares as anything she may or may not have gotten up to with Ulfric.

Erandur was rubbing his head. "As to the second vote, isn't that much easier, if the smaller council hands them a completed solution? If they could have gotten their hands on the children, called a vote to handle a tricky ward issue in small council, and then present the full council with vetted heirs whose living situation is already sorted to their satisfaction, what else could they do but accept?"

"Are you saying they're trying to kill me to raise my children as Imperial bureaucrat brats?" Tyr asked incredulously.

"Puppets," Fey corrected him, anger glimmering in her eyes.

"That would solve a lot of their problems," Sorcha shrugged. "Not to mention many of them have children. They'd be cradle engaged within a year to the nearest offspring in age of whoever's behind this."

"Well, we know the person behind this, at least; why not trail Almond until they call the Council?" Ama shuddered. "Don't let my getting slobbered on go to waste."

"Someone  _slobbered_ on you?" Tyr demanded, appalled.

Ama gave Tyr a flabbergasted look. "Did you think Weaselface was going to recite pretty poetry? What did you think would happen when I presented Mr. Sleazy with his naughty fantasy?"

"Well, I…" Tyr slowly started turning red, but continued looking stubborn and slightly angry, "He shouldn't have treated you like that."

Ama's face softened. "No, he shouldn't, and that it upsets you so much on my behalf just points to how much of a better person you are than he is." Ama turned to Fey, "Please, make more."

That startled a laugh out of the woman, who reached over and grabbed her husband's hand, "We'll get to that later." Tyr finished turning red and looked to be staying that way.

"So," Shell drawled, waiting for the nonsense to stop, "who exactly is Almond, and why is he not dead?"

"Amaund Motierre," Sorcha interjected. "Breton member of the Elder Council. His family have been on it since the last Empire. Amaund himself is ambitious but not as smart as he thinks he is, somewhat desperate to find a way to increase his family's fortune before the rest of the higher-ups realize they're almost middle class, and has a liking for naughty statuary."

"He wouldn't be working alone, then," Talon stated thoughtfully.

"Because he likes naughty statuary?" Tyr asked, confused.

Fey gave him an affectionately exasperated look, "Anyone 'almost middle class' would seek a partner to dupe into paying for things."

"Hey, who did that bond belong to he was trying to cash?" Ama asked. "That might be his dupe."

Sorcha smiled at Ama like she was a particularly apt pupil, "That would be Dum Faustus. Not a lord, just extremely rich. His father was a knight and he was a judge. He had quite a head for investments before he had a complete nervous breakdown and became convinced the world was going to end. Most speculate it was due to his presence in the courtyard when the Thalmor officially declared war." Her smile was grim and bitter, "The man was gently raised. Seeing a cart full of severed heads played with his."

"Don't the Imperials put the severed heads of certain criminals on pikes atop the walls to the City?" Tyr asked, confused.

"Not where nobles have to be offended by them," Sorcha huffed, putting on the air of an offended noblewoman. "That would be unseemly." Galmar snorted, his opinion of gentle nobles plain.

"So, Almond plays mastermind, Dum foots the bill." Ama was chewing on her lip. "Anyone else thinking that's too simple and neat?"

"I do," the Breton said, "because the man is so worried about his status that he dropped a deal on a risque piece of art. In no way would he know how to find a regular mercenary, let alone an assassin."

"So we have at least three players," Talon stated, thinking this through.

"I wouldn't bank on less than five," she said, shaking her head. "Minimum number on Council record, but because it is on record, there's precedent for passing issues."

"Now  _that_ would be the party to crash," Wemie hummed. "You would have all the principle players neatly hemmed in and their culpability spelled out for even the blockiest of heads."

"I take it that is going to be the Council Telki and I are supposed to attend, then?" Tyr said, giving Fey a worried look. He was not ready to be Emperor, but he didn't feel as if he was being left any other choice. Mere months since he escaped the Thalmor prison, only to exchange it for one that was, in it's own way, much more confining. He had a feeling he was going to be rather cranky to the Councilors.

Gideon sat at the table, hands folded, considering. "If these are the conspirators behind the attacks on the children, chances are, if you truly wanted to avoid the throne, handling them privately like so might free you of that responsibility  _and_  free our children of attacks."

"And it sounds like we're back to following Almond to find out who they are, where it's taking place, and when it's taking place." Ama huffed, "And I'm guessing that would be me doing the following?"

Ulfric finally spoke up. "Tyr," his voice was soft, but carried, "You know as well as I that the Thalmor are not going away. Just as I am sure it will take all of Tamriel to finally put an end to their machinations, I do not think anyone else could make the former provinces cooperate but an honest to gods just man, and a honest to gods Septim to boot. We  _need_ you to take the damned throne."

Tyr stared at him a moment, startled. So far, Ulfric hadn't talked much to him about the possibility of him ruling the Empire. Possibly, this was because Tyr didn't want to, but it also put Ulfric in a somewhat awkward position, considering the number of Skyrim's citizens that considered them well-rid of any contact with the Empire. Allying Skyrim with the Empire again would anger an unknown number of the population, as well as potentially stirring up talk that they shouldn't have ceded in the first place, or that they should join again.

Sighing, he looked down at the table, not bothering to hide his troubled expression. "I wasn't raised to rule like you were, Ulfric," he said quietly. "I don't know if I'll be any better than Mede. He's let the Council take a lot of power in the last few decades, from what I've heard."

"Who was it that I heard knew more often than not when someone was lying, often before even the Young Ones could?" Wemie eyed Tyr up and down. "That is going to be an invaluable gift. It tells you who you can and cannot trust. That alone makes you a better ruler than most, without knowing anything more about ruling. You also have Fey. She probably has forgotten more statescraft than most rulers ever had."

After another moment of thought, he said, "I'm actually taking a lot of comfort from the fact that she's not denying that." Fey gave him a wry look and squeezed his hand.

"What more have we learned about the Young Ones helping the conspirators?" Ulfric apparently took Tyr's last statement as agreement, and was moving on to the next snarl in their plans. "I cannot believe it is mere coincidence, but Thalmor plotting."

"You two actually saw one," Shell said, slipping into Gideon's lap, "What was he like?"

"Like he lost a fight with a weaponsmith's entire stock." Ama thought a moment. "He might have been pretty, if he weren't missing so much of his face."

"It's a coral scar," Sorcha supplied. "Since Dessnia has the only other estate on a reef, and he was pretending to be a mercenary, I figured he was one of hers. His reaction confirmed it."

Galmar growled low in his throat. The only clear word was 'pissant'. Sorcha glanced over affectionately, then reached under the table and squeezed his thigh. That earned her a look of a whole different nature.

"How old was he?" Talon asked, eyes narrowed slightly.

"Early twenties, though his swagger suggested he might be younger," she shrugged. "Why, do you know him?"

Talon shook his head, "Simply seeing what level of expertise we're dealing with. An older team would be much more worrisome than a younger, though I'd caution you not to underestimate them because you think of them as children."

"Mother?" Shell frowned, taking in Fey's still countenance.

"I had a student a few years ago," Fey said soberly, "Her brother had to switch his focus because his face was ruined in a training accident. I don't know anything more about him than that, however, though she was a brown-haired Imperial."

Gideon hummed. "Has anyone thought to ask our newest foundlings, since they seem to be from the same Thalmor?"

Looking over at Sorcha, Shell asked, "Do you still mind?"

"Eh, bring them over. They probably know I skedaddled by now anyway," she shrugged.

"Alright, then," Shell hopped up and looked around, planting her hands on her hips. "Don't stop on my account. I'll go grab the boys: You all plot." She shooed her hands at them like a goosegirl hurrying her charges along.

"Sura too," Talon reminded her. "She is the only non-courtesan of their group. She has a better chance of recognizing this Young One."

"I'm certain she does if his face is as nightmare-inducing as Ama implies," Shell shrugged, kissed Gideon's cheek, then flounced to the door. "Be back in a bit."

.

* * *

 .

Mercutio had reluctantly given up on sleeping when the vivid nightmares started. He'd awoken tangled in sheets damp with his sweat, more exhausted than when he laid down. Throwing the sheets in the laundry, the bathing room had caught his eye, prompting him to soak some of those entirely too real images away. He was having limited success.

"What's put such a scowl on your face? Usually you're smiling like a cat in a dairy farm when you're up to your ears in suds." Lydia leaned against the doorframe, her feet and arms laxly crossed, obviously admiring the view.

"Remember how everyone said Sam was frighteningly intelligent when sober?" Mercutio pushed up in the tub so that he was sitting, his eyes on the washcloth he kept folding and refolding in his lap.

"Yes?"

"Well, that might have been the biggest understatement in six eras," Mercutio winced. "Sam, as it turns out, is an incredible detective."

She straightened and uncrossed her arms, perplexed, as she realized he wasn't joking. "How so?"

"We found out what happened to Lucy and Frankie's mothers." At the hitch in Mercutio's voice, Lydia moved from the doorway to the edge of the bath, pulling him to her so she could stroke his hair. This helped Mercutio enough to find his voice.

"It took a while, thought it would take forever to get Sam moving—did you know the Daedric Prince of Debauchery can feel guilt?—but once he got moving, it was impressive. He charmed the young lady at Honorhall into sharing everything she knew, and a few things she thought she forgot, about Frankie. That led him to a few of his followers, who remembered these two women who left the Revelers about the same time. One of those women had a farm in Whiterun Hold. It's now in the care of Lucy's Uncle and Aunt. Sam was not happy with them, at all. He got the information he wanted out of them, but by the time he was done they were in need of a healer, and that farm's under the worst luck curse I've ever seen.

"There was another batch of Revelers we wound up interviewing. They remembered two very pretty Imperial women fondly, and one of the Revelers recalled one of them had an a husband who couldn't or wouldn't satisfy." Mercutio's breath shuddered out of him, and he skipped to the part bothering him most.

"That man, I can't fathom him at all." Mercutio shuddered to remember the spittle- and hate-laden confession. "He screamed, he raged, and what he did to his wife, and then when he hunted down Lucia's mother…I can't…and so Sam visited it all back on him. Even after the man was in tattered pieces, it took so long to calm him down, and I never, ever want to see him that dead-eyed again."

Mercutio felt a kiss on the top of his head, and shifted so he could look in Lydia's face. Her eyes were suspiciously sparkly, and there was a sad quirk to her mouth. "It's always a little frightening, when we learn just how monstrous people can be, and just how human supposed 'monsters' can be, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah it is." Merc sighed. "I need to get out of this water before I turn into a prune."

Lydia laughed softly and passed him a towel, thoroughly enjoying the view while he dried off. "You had me worried there for a second, but no, same old Merc." Hand in hand, they headed towards the front of the bathing chamber, which seemed a bit more steam-filled than normal. She had just enough time to realize that the vapor was a cold, clammy fog rather than warm bath steam before it billowed, revealing the rune on the floor. For once, Mercutio reacted faster than she, throwing himself over her as it went off. The last thing she saw was the vapor tinge green before sleep took her.


	35. Bound in Shallows and in Miseries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Neener neener neener, you can't catch me!" Haffod smiled at Sofie's teasing call. She was currently dancing just out of Runa's reach, who looked ready to commit murder. He idly wondered if the ribbons dangling from her dress had anything to do with it. It was quite a few more than she usually wore, meaning none at all.

He chuckled as he looked over to Demeus, who was besieged by both Frankie and Blaise.

"So cool, can you show me how to fight with it? I bet you know all the cool sword moves, teach me? Huh? Please?" Blaise bounced in front of Demeus, looking for all the world like a giant jackrabbit.

"Uh…" Demeus looked uncertainly down at the boy, rubbing the back of his neck and wondering how best to say "hell no" without it getting back to the adults as him being mean.

"Blossom did a backflip out of the tree yesterday. Do you know how to do that? Can you show me? Hey, do you know how to juggle? Momma Telki tried to show me, but I kept dropping the balls." Frankie hung onto Demeus' tunic, comfortable as if he'd always been there.

Haffod tried to stifle a chuckle, but it was no use. Sura looked over at him in amusement, eyes shining with mirth and looking to share it with him. All Haffod could do was bask in her sunny gaze.

"Careful Haf, don't fall in." The sly snark could only be Alesan's, and hadn't that been fun? Not only to admitting Heron had played him like a child's game, but that he'd outed Alesan's feelings before he was ready to share them himself. Thankfully, Alesan wasn't one to hold a grudge, especially if it got him out of a week's worth of chores.

"Fall into what?" Sura asked, turning to the Redguard boy with confusion on her face.

"Uh, well, it's an expression for how goofy he was looking, like he was about to drown himself in your eyes."

"That…sounds painful?" Sura said, fingers pressed to her cheeks just below her eyes. "Is that normal?"

"For ridiculous phrases to have unintended connotations? Yes. I blame Breton romance novels." Alesan crooked a smile at Sura.

"Don't let Alesan's supposed cool fool you, he just wanted your attention." Haffod had never been so thankful to Lucia in his life. Not that she could see, since her eyes were pinned on Heron, who looked honestly happy for once, watching Demeus deal with normal children. That brought him down a bit. They'd not talked again, and Haffod was still more than a little wounded from his shabby treatment.

Murril ran over and plopped herself in Sura's lap, looking about then leaning over and lifting up the frayed braided rug the older girl had been replaiting, looking for something.

"Uh, Murril, what are you looking for?" Lucia asked the question, but every face above her echoed the same curiosity.

The little elf looked up, pointed at the boys with each hand, then at Sura, then made bursting motion with her fingers around her face.

"She's looking for that damned daedric menace," Demeus supplied, trying to escape from the children for a moment as they got distracted by a cat on the other roof.

Murril nodded vigorously, neither ashamed nor repentant.

"Now that is odd, has anyone ever seen it wander away from Murril?" Alesan asked.

"It was confiscated," Demeus said flatly as Sura giggled.

"It's inside," she said, ignoring Demeus's glare. "Murril kept running up to Demeus and making him look at Shell."

The boy's cheeks got a little darker, and he turned and huffed back to the smaller children, deciding that their incessant questions were better than trying to talk with the older children after all.

"He's getting so much better," Sura said with a happy grin, going back to her plaiting.

"That's better?" Haffod could feel both brows headed for his hairline.

Her lips parted slightly with surprise. "You can't tell?"

Alesan grinned. "I think someone underestimates how well she reads people, compared to the rest of us poor, boring normals."

Blushing, she glanced from one to the other, "Really?" she asked worriedly.

"Sura, you're used to reading people that actively hide what they're feeling. We've not had to do that, so we never learned how." Lucia patted Sura's arm reassuringly.

"I thought he was doing a very bad job of hiding that he admires Shell," she said, looking astonished they'd missed it.

"Well, even had we missed it, Sparkles gave that much away. I thought you meant you saw improvement in Demeus' attitude."

"I do, though!" she cried, frustrated they couldn't see it. "He's much more relaxed, and less bossy and grouchy."

"I'm not grouchy and quit talking about me!" Demeus yelled from halfway across the courtyard, trying to pry a clinging Murril off him as gently as he could. She kept half-climbing him to yank at his pockets. Heron finally lost it and laughed outright.

"Then come join the conversation and quit scowling at everyone and everything," challenged Haffod.

"I am not getting roped into watching you three's awkward courting phase," he said firmly, holding Murril upside-down while she shrieked in delight. "It's painful."

Lucia couldn't help but laugh at both Haffod and Alesan's awkward expressions. "Good one, Demeus!"

"Strange that they're in an awkward courting phase yet you get shocked more than both of them combined," Heron called, sinking down onto a bench and stretching out his legs, crossing them at the ankle. There was a relaxation about him that hadn't quite been there before, though it was so subtle as to be nearly unnoticeable.

Demeus's reply ruined his former credit trying to behave well around the children and had Sura turning red and Blaise delighting that he had a new insult, even if he wasn't entirely sure what it meant.

Lucia had been doing quite a bit of Heron watching, and decided to ask the one person that might could tell her. "Is it just me, or is Heron acting more relaxed?"

"Of course he's relaxed," Sura said, braiding up the last bit of frayed rug and starting to knot the ends together, "He doesn't have to worry about the adults right now. There's no reason for him to be guarded."

Lucia tilted her head. "Why would the adults worry him so? I mean, if he wanted, he'd be just as much one of their kids as I am."

"Because adults always have their own agenda. They always want something, and when they come to a Young One to get it—or even a teenager on the road—chances are it's nothing good," she supplied, not even looking up from her braiding. "We made a lot of money for this journey because of things like that, but we were hardly ever asked to do something legal, or…well, nice."

If she had looked up, she would have seen three faces frozen in horror. "Sura…" Lucia had to stop and try again. "Sura, you do know that these adults aren't like that, don't you?"

"Well,  _I_  know that, but it's mostly because I remember it from before. Heron doesn't have a 'before,' so I suppose it will take him a while to learn," she shrugged, turning the rug to wind more of the braid around it.

Haffod was personally torn. On the one hand, he wanted to reassure Heron that part of his life was over and never to be repeated. The other wanted to find every person that ever treated him that way, and beat them senseless. Either way, he'd have to get over his own personal hurt.

There was a huff from the other side of Sura. "I'll do it." Haffod gave Alesan a grateful grin as he pushed off from the wall and sauntered over to Heron, casually sitting on the planter behind him and avoiding the twins and newlywed daedra curled together in the corner. Orien had played himself out early on, and Blossom had curled up with him 'for protection.' The Girls had cheerfully claimed cuddles.

"Am I about to get a heart to heart because I am technically old enough to drink and would like to before doing that," Heron said easily.

"How much did you hear?" Alesan asked.

"Bits and pieces between the shrieking," he replied, waving toward where Demeus finally gave in and proved that yes, he could actually juggle, and no, he wasn't adding more daggers, three was enough.

"So, you know you don't actually have to worry around the grownups? It's just 'old habits die hard'?" Alesan whistled as he watch Demeus' display. "Dang, I think he could teach Momma Telki a thing or two."

Heron watched him for a second before his eyes flitted back to Demeus's spectacle. He wondered when the other Young One would break down and admit he was having at least a little fun. "Sure," he said noncommittally.

Alesan considered Heron a bit longer. "If these kids were in the same boat you were in growing up, would you be able to relax like this around them? That alone should reassure you a least a little. Heck, that big lunk over there is wanting to go bust every head that ever did you wrong, and that's after you treated him like a stupid Thalmor flunky. Think about it."

"If I had treated him like a 'stupid Thalmor flunky' I would have hit him over the head and dumped him in the river, thank you, but I'll consider your words," Heron said, tone still that pleasant drawl he'd started with.

Alesan heaved a sigh. "Yeah, I get it. You need time. Just, don't take too long to figure out you're actually free of that place. Alright?"

"Are you thirsty?" Heron asked abruptly, rolling to his feet, "I think I'm going to go find a drink."

"You want the stuff that'll make you see three of everything, or the stuff that won't get us in trouble?" Alesan smirked. "I know where both are kept."

"I think seeing three of everything sounds very interesting," Heron replied, going to open the door, then halting. "Alesan," he said, voice dropping all humor, "does this door tend to stick?"

"No? Is it?" Alesan looked from Heron to the door and back.

In reply, Heron's arm jerked at the door, which didn't budge. Leaving it, he moved to the next one, unable to open it, either. By this time Sura had noticed something was off, and Demeus was trying to shush Sofie, watching their progress around the yard.

Mehris's eyes fluttered open as they stepped around her and her wife where they were providing warm sitting places for the twins. "Is something wrong, Pretty Mortal Boy?"

"Please stop calling me that," Heron managed tiredly, trying the last door and finding it just as sealed.

Demeus had finally extricated himself from clinging littles to come over. "Move," he said, lightly pushing his teammate aside and working at the door with a pair of lockpicks, then pulling them out with a puzzled expression. "It's not locked."

"Sura!" Heron called, his breathing just a tad faster. "We need you."

"Help me up," she half-ordered Haffod, her expression a focused one they'd never had reason to see.

Haffod scooped her up and carried her over to the door, where she could inspect it from the cradle of his arms. He was not going to get caught out over her redamaging her ankle.

Sura closed her eyes, hand hovering over the lock, then the handle, a moment before closing into a fist and withdrawing to her chest. "Take me to the window, please," she requested, voice shaking slightly.

"Sura, are you alright?" Haffod was worried, but walked smoothly to the nearest window. Alesan was now hovering at his shoulder, though what he thought he could do more was anyone's guess.

Gently, she lay her hand against the window frame, closing her eyes again. "It's not the locks," she said lowly, not wanting to alarm the smaller children, "We're sealed in."

"How?" Haffod looked at the window, there was nothing different he could see.

"Who?" Alesan looked about the courtyard, even scanning the rooftops. Blossom had shone off her roofwalking skills so often he'd started searching high as a natural course.

"How do we break it?" Lucia asked.

"I can't," Sura said, her voice laced with shame and regret as she looked down. "The spell is seamless, and I can only unwravel it if I find a…a frayed edge, I suppose."

"Let us try," Valori suggested, rocketing to her feet and literally tossing Orien to Demeus, who was closest. Orien woke with a grunt of surprise, looking around in confusion as the Mazken went to the wall, staring at it a moment before thrusting her arms toward it. The brick blasted outward, raining pebbles around them, but halted midway through the wall, briefly showing a shining sheet of energy that passed right through the material. "Huh."

"How odd," Mehris commented, squinting at it, "I can only tell it's there when your power is reflecting off it." Looking up, she tossed one of the rocks at the empty sky. It hit solid air just below the gutter and bounced back down. "I can't sense it at all. The breeze is still going through it…"

"Call for help. This can't be good." Lucia rounded up the littles, looking about her as if kidnappers were about to materialize out of the stonework.

Murril followed her gaze, then abruptly started shrieking, rushing around the inside of the courtyard like a panicked horse.

"Second Page!" Valori scolded, picking her up, but the girl squirmed right out of her grip and continued running around, shrieking bloody murder.

Frankie looked at her worriedly, and sidled closer to Demeus' side, clutching his tunic again. "What's wrong with Murril?"

Following the girl with his eyes, Demeus inhaled suddenly, ripping himself from the boy and knocking Lucia to the ground, staring at the stranger that had been standing behind her, gazing down at her and the other children placidly. Altmer perhaps, with the palest yellow skin they'd ever seen, hair almost white, and eyes so pale blue the irises could barely be told from the whites. In a light grey robe that hung unfettered from neck to ankle, there was no way to even tell the gender of the interloper, let alone what weapons might be hidden.

The Altmer looked down into his alarmed face for a moment before reaching out with a strangely slow movement and touching his forehead. Demeus collapsed without a sound.

Haffod didn't wait for him to touch another, but rolled into the stranger, both arms crossed in front of him since he didn't have a shield. He stood up where the Altmer had just been, but now wasn't. Nobody had seen him move, and there was no visible spell effect. Yet Haffod stood there with no target.

Heron watched this with narrowed eyes, then slowly made his way over to the other boy as the children looked around uncertainty. Touching his arm to get his attention, he looked pointedly at Murril. She was standing against a pillar, still shrieking, her green eyes tracking something they couldn't see. Haffod nodded. It was like the hay maze. "How to reach him, then?" he asked lowly.

"Wait until he…she…whatever is on the other side of the courtyard," Heron said lowly, "then yell at it. Think you can handle that?"

"Aye." Haffod tracked Murril's stare, and when it pointed to the desired spot, unleashed his  _thu'um,_ praying it would work _._ " _ **Fus Ro Dah**_!"

Dust rose around a void shaped like a person bracing themselves. Shades of grey and white filled it gradually like smoke fills a glass bottle as the figure put its arms down. "Little brother," the Altmer said to Heron in a whispered rasp, "I have come to take you home."

"He is home, you poor miserable puppet." Lucia's eyes flickered dangerously, the normal soft brown darkening and spreading like an ink stain into the whites, something even darker flickering within. Her dress stirred in a breeze that wasn't there. She'd never felt angrier or more scared than she was right now, and could feel power coursing aimlessly. If only she knew how to direct it. "And you're not taking him back to that hellhole if I can help it."

Showing the first hint of expression, the Altmer's head cocked sideways. Too fast to follow, the Young One's form vanished and reappeared before her, reaching out to grab her chin. "Daedra," that rasping voice announced, other hand lifting with a spell that swept through the courtyard. Mehris and Valori shrieked in surprise and melted away in spheres of Conjuration, Banished. Pain tore through Lucia and she shut her eyes tightly, only to open them in a grey half-world, mists as far as the eye could see. The Altmer looked more solid here, more present. "Half daedra," he said, his voice normal now, without the rasp that robbed it of individuality. Abruptly, they were back in the courtyard, and he was releasing her.

Her knees folded under her, and her stomach was in knots, but she kept her eyes on the stranger, daring him to move towards her or her friends again, not that she had a clue what she could do against him if he did.

The man moved suddenly, reaching down and grabbing Blossom's wrist as she went to stab him, then tossing her roughly into Heron, who was forced to catch her. Wrenching her wrist around in a way that made her shriek and drop the dagger, the Altmer grabbed it and slashed at the Nord before he could eel out of the way, forcing them both back.

"Heron!" Sura cried, struggling to get Alesan to put her down.

"I'm fine," he called, voice shaking. One hand covered the right side of his face, blood dripping down onto Blossom, who held her wrist to her chest, crying and glaring at the stranger.

"Alesan, put me down!" she cried frantically, staring around the courtyard with wide eyes.

"Besides falling on your unhealed ankle, what could you do? Let me help, tell me!" Alesan argued. If Demeus and Heron weren't having any luck, he doubted the injured Sura would fare much better, but together? Maybe.

"Leave 'em alone you big meanie! Didn't your mommy teach you any manners!" Sofie stood there, tears trailing down her cheeks, being as loud and as obvious as she could. Blaise and Runa had both grabbed daggers from Demeus' fallen bulk. Frankie had covered him protectively, and then collapsed there when the spell went off. They were going to make this stranger pay if they could.

"Alesan, he's The Null," she said, staring up at him urgently. "It's like fighting a ghost! We have to get out of here!"

"How? Not even Mehris or Valori could find a way out."

Lucia struggled to her feet, mind racing over what she'd managed to observe. He was ghostly  _here_ , but not  _there_. When he tried to Banish her, it took her  _there_  where he was real. Perhaps if she was the one to take him this time, he would get stuck. This was going to hurt, but it might get the ghost away from her siblings. Lucia lunged for the Altmer, and cast Banish the moment she made contact.

Fog rushed in around them as he staggered, both of them falling to the ground. He pushed the girl off him to find her effort had sent her into unconsciousness. Shaking his head at her, impressed with the futility of her action, he left her where she was and shifted back to Nirn, appearing behind the Nord Young One and reaching his ethereal arm through his chest and into the girl, watching them both collapse as their bodies refused to accept the spiritual shock of the contact.

Seeing Runa about to creep up on the man with one of Demeus's daggers, Orien reached out and grabbed her sleeve. " _ **Feim!"**_ he Shouted as quietly as he could. It came out a whisper, but somehow still worked alright. Runa looked down at herself, and gave Orien an evil grin. Fierce expression on his normally pleasant face, he nodded and wrapped one of her trailing ribbons around his wrist to make sure she stayed ghostly, and snuck forward with her as quietly as his sister had shown him while Sofie yelled.

The Altmer just stared at her for some reason, as if he couldn't figure out why she was being so noisy. That was fine with Orien. Blaise was providing further distraction, as if using Sofie himself to cover his own sneaky attack. Runa shook her head, and aimed for that spot Talon had showed her, and stabbed with both hands on the handle.

She missed it by an inch. The man cried out in shock, looking back at them with wide eyes, a hint of wonder in his expression. Blood leaked down his robes from the wound. Haffod, seeing both children in danger, threw himself between the kids and the Altmer, swinging at his head with a potted plant he'd picked up. It broke over the Altmer's arm when he lifted it, bringing it down slowly to examine the dirt and bits of plant matter sticking to his robes.

"Haffod! Don't let him touch you!" Sura yelled, frustrated tears leaking down her face at her powerlessness.

" _ **Fus Ro Dah**_!" Haffod crowded the kids back behind him, better him than the littles.

The Altmer braced himself again, but slid back along the cobbles until a support pillar halted him. Looking at Haffod as if just noticing him, he knelt, touching something slightly gleaming on the ground.

Haffod felt as if the entire weight of Nirn was on his shoulders, bearing him to the ground. Similar groans and cursing from Alesan, and wailing from the littles told him he wasn't the only one feeling this. "What in Shor's name?" He fought it, making it shakily to his knees, but could do little more than that. Beneath his hands branched a rune that covered the entire courtyard, gleaming green streaks of light like an imprisoned aurora.

Watching this, the Altmer rose and walked over to him, prodding at his chest with a strange, small smile. Haffod growled at him. Reaching into the sleeve of his robe, the man pulled a coin-sized glass vile from the folds, the sort Imperial ladies kept perfume in. Pulling out the stopper revealed a thin silver needle rather than the normal ivory rod, dripping slightly with green liquid. He jabbed it into Haffod's neck without ceremony. Haffod felt his muscles freeze, even breathing became a chore. All he could do was watch the stranger do as he pleased with his charges, taking the needle to each of them in turn.

Crouching over Alesan, the Altmer turned to Sura, who feebly tried to move away from him, then froze when he held out a hand, lightly brushing along her arm with his fingers. She blinked and sat up, watching him warily. "What do you want?" she asked, pale.

"Can you fix his face?" the Altmer asked, nodding to Heron. "I do not know what they will do to him if you cannot."

"Just…just go," she begged, tears raining down her cheeks, "Leave us be and go."

Reaching out and brushing the tears from the left side of her face, he said, "I cannot. I was sent to get you." He paused, anything more he might have said halting in his throat as a blue glass blade pressed against the side of his neck.

"You know," Shell said with deceptive pleasantness, "there's always a way to unlock any spell." Her voice lowering, she ordered, "Get away from her."

The man rose slowly, turning to look at the Bosmer in black armor that had melted away from the shadows. "Faloniril's Bosmer," he said, the rasp of his voice holding a slightly more normal tone of recognition. "I did not know you had a Gift."

Alesan growled at him. If anyone understood paralyzed speech, they might have known he was protesting Shell had a name.

"Thanks, Alesan. I appreciate the sentiment," she, by now quite fluent in growl, said, not taking her eyes off the man. "I'm called Shell now. And you are? Someone with an actual Gift must have earned a Name by your age."

"Lee. Known as The Null," he said.

"Explains why you're getting more solid. When's the last time you felt anything?" she asked, her tone almost academic. "Become a bit addicted to pain the last few minutes, it seems."

"It's been some time," he admitted, looking around him. "I'm supposed to take them home."

"They are home," she countered, eyes darkening. Alesan's garbled growl backed her up.

His eyes grew lighter even as he stared back at her, "None of you are home," he said dully.

"There's no saving you, is there?" she sighed, pity overtaking her expression.

"But I'm here to save you," he replied.

Shell jerked, eyes going wide a moment before glancing down to her side, where a slim dagger barely pierced her armor. "Shit," she managed, before collapsing forward.

Sura stared, eyes rising to follow the blade back to its source. "D-Demeus?"

The Redguard sighed, standing and brushing off his legs, none of his usual sullenness about him. "Dammit, Lee, it took you long enough."

The Altmer blinked at him. "How is your head?"

"Fine," he said, going over to one of the doors and pulling the hinges out, dragging the thing over next to Heron and rolling the boy onto it. "I'm not sure how much longer I could have stayed like that, though."

"You…how  _could_ you?" Sura demanded, wishing she could throw lightning like other mages. "I thought we were friends!"

"I cannot  _believe_ how much they managed to shelter you," he said, shaking his head. Looking to Lee, he said, "We need to leave. The situation here is worse than we thought."

"It is a shame you were unable to send reports," the Altmer said, reaching down and offering Sura a hand to her feet. When she jerked her head away, he let it fall.

"Hard to do anything, trapped inside your own head," he commented, moving around the improvised stretcher to collect Shell. He paused next to Frankie, glancing down at him a moment with an unreadable expression before moving on.

Haffod watched, wondering how two people who knew so much could so blindly keep on a path hellbent on destruction. Demeus, for all that he seemed surer of himself and not nearly the surly slouching teen of earlier, was actively helping return people to the Thalmor and his own annihilation. Sanguine alone would rend him to pieces for what happened today. He didn't want to consider what Romulus would do to him.

This stranger in Demeus's body considered Shell a moment before systematically removing various weapons from her person for a few minutes. "I am not going to find them all," he finally sighed resignedly, then grabbed her arm and wrenched it from the shoulder socket, doing the same to the other before tying them so she couldn't use them even if she managed to shake off the poison.

Haffod could not stand it. "Do you realize how many gods you're pissing off?"

Apparently, he was mad enough to burn off some of the paralysis. Alesan's own growl joined his. "Let's count, shall we? Sanguine himself visits this house, and you just left his daughter someplace else. If the look on Merc's face was any indication, what he did to the last people wasn't very nice. Then there's the Fox, Mara talks in Erandur's head, and the one you really have to worry about disappeared Falofifi so completely, nobody knows what happened to him."

"Might want to dose him again, Lee," was all Demeus said, "He's big enough two doses won't kill him."

"Unlike you to care," Lee commented, laying Orien below Blossom on the door beside Heron.

Demeus laid Shell on their other side, bracketing the two children in before turning back to Sura. "So, fighting or willing? Keep in mind, if we knock you out, none of us are going to waste magic on making him pretty again."

Face anguished, Sura closed her eyes and nodded, not fighting as he lifted her up.

"Sura, we'll come for you. We'll get you back," Haffod vowed to her.

"Shut him up," Demeus said curtly, then raised an eyebrow, a bit of his former self showing through. "What are you doing?"

Lee carefully placed Murril next to Orien. "She belongs with her people."

"She's mad. They wouldn't want her anyway," he pointed out. Lee simply stared at him and he shook his head.

"Sure, take the Mad God's page. Make it that much easier to find and turn you all to cheese," Haffod snorted.

"Can you take this many through the…whatever that place is?" Demeus asked, eyeing the door.

"I am unsure," Lee admitted, not sounding troubled.

"Well, let's be sure then. There's a portal to the Imperial City in the basement," he said.

Lee nodded and lifted his hand, the green light of Telekinesis reflecting off his skin and making him look ghoulish. The door lifted, then floated after him as Demeus lead the way out of the courtyard, leaving the children with nothing but their thoughts.

Haffod watched, a thousand curses and warnings crowding his tongue to silence, wishing there was something, anything he could do to stop them, but there was nothing.

.

* * *

.

They'd been expecting Lee to bring Demeus and the others back to their base in his usual manner, so the table had been moved against the wall and set on its side, making as much extra floor space as they could manage. They weren't expecting what was left of the younger team to be laid out on a door, or for Lee to collapse the moment they all solidified, most of his color completely gone and looking like a lich.

Orchid was the first to react, rushing forward to help the Altmer over to a chair. Lizard brought him a bowl of stew, forcing some past his lips before he could even begin to protest.

Malero took the girl his team leader was carrying and set her to the side, giving her a stern look to stay put, then glancing over the door. "Should I ask?" The glare Demeus sent him earned nothing more than a shrug. "Well, you were supposed to bring back two brats and whatever was left of a team. You brought three courtesans, three brats, and a door." Glancing over Heron, he winced in memory, lifting an involuntary hand to his own face before letting it drop.

"You said I could help him," the girl prompted, staring right at Demeus and holding his gaze. With his slow nod, she was out of the chair instantly, kneeling next to the door with her hands on either side of the Nord's head, faint Healing light arcing around, but not doing anything obvious.

"Not much of a mage, are you?" Malero scoffed, watching this. He didn't recognize her or the Bosmer, but if they'd been sent away for training like his sister, he really wouldn't, anyway.

"Shut up," she said shortly, only half paying attention to him.

Eyebrows flying upward, he glanced at Demeus just in time to see a slight smile on the normally reserved face. Having his younger self in control must have eroded some of that ridgid discipline he prided himself on.

"What are you focusing on?" the Redguard asked.

Red eyes opened to flicker his direction, then back to the face below hers, "I'm trying to save his eye."

"I'll leave you to it, then," the man said, finally getting to his feet. Glancing around, he asked, "Did you make contact?"

"They hired us, yes," Orchid said, tearing her eyes from their mage. "Malero also seduced the old bat that was looking for assassins." From her tone, she wasn't entirely happy with that.

"I was really bored," her brother said with a wry twist of his lips.

"Jeopardize things like that again and I'll finish off the rest of your face," Demeus promised, leaning down and lifting the Bosmer from the door.

"Dem," Lizard said, the scales of her brow ridges furrowing slightly, "I do not recognize her."

"I don't either, and I know all the female courtesans in my age group," Orchid said, looking from the girl on the floor to the Bosmer. "I don't know either of these two."

"Sura was her group's mage," Demeus explained, not looking at either of them but sensing their starts of surprise. "And this is Faloniril's Bosmer."

A long moment of silence met that statement. "Well," Lizard finally said, "that explains why you dislocated her arms."

"I don't know how much longer Orchid's poison will work on her," he confirmed her unspoken question. "I'm putting her in the cage for now. Liz, tie up the rest of them. And whatever you do, do not let the Altmer girl wake up until we're under better shields than this. Orchid, take Lee to his room and see if you can bring him back a bit. He'll also need some medical treatment. Malero, watch Sura but do not interrupt her."

They broke into their various tasks while the Redguard secured one of the most feared Young Ones of their generation, mind still reeling from the forced recession and the knowledge he'd awoken with. Lizard found him some time later, sitting outside the cage and examining the unconscious woman's face, thinking fiercely.

"This is unlike you," she commented.

"I was a willful, stupid child. It has been a long time since I had to fight my impulses," he replied, standing and turning to regard his second. "We need to move up the timetable."

She blinked, "This isn't a stupid impulse, is it?" she asked uncertainty.

"No. Had I been able to bring myself out at will, I would have called this whole thing off, but it's far too late for that now," he said, icy eyes returning once more to the Bosmer. "There's more to the Dragonborn and her family than we knew, and much of it we have no defenses for yet. If we hurry, we might manage to send back everything we need to report, but I am not hopeful we'll make it back home, even if Lee could simply Shift us that far."

"What are my orders?" she asked, moving right to the point.

"Did they send dossiers on the Dragonborn's siblings?" he asked, then nodded when she confirmed that they had basic ones. "We need to direct attention off us; make them think the Empire is striking first, if possible. Talon's sleeping with the mage sister," he revealed, earning a glimpse of Lizard's needle-like teeth as her jaw dropped, "Go through her dossier and see if you can find anything useful in there.

"Malero's cockiness might actually work in our favor, this time. Have him pay a visit to his noblewoman and inform her that we have the children. You and Orchid can bring the twins to them later."

"Bring them?" Lizard echoed, confused. "They are Young Ones. We are not taking them home?"

He shook his head. "We can retrieve them later, if they live through this. In the meantime, once it becomes obvious that the Empire has them, they'll go after the Council. It might buy us enough time to get away."

"What of the girl?"

"Sura will expend most of her energy trying to heal Heron so they don't decide he's not worth reeducating. Not that it will help; he snuck right out of Dessnia's bed the night they escaped." He shook his head at the foolishness of the Nord's actions. "I think she's liable to scratch his eyes out in sheer spite."

Lizard shuddered. "Anything else?"

Taking a deep breath, he turned away from the cage and toward the back office. "Focus on your end. I need to see who we have in the College of Whispers."

.

* * *

.

"I've never seen you bleed before."

Lee twisted slightly, lifting his arm and watching Orchid's slim, graceful fingers guide a needle through his flesh. He'd asked her not to use anesthesia, but she'd insisted. Her hands looked very odd, stained with his blood. "I was not expecting them to be trained. It was almost like fighting Young Ones, only…chaotic."

"You pushed yourself too hard," she scolded, shaking a strand of shining chestnut hair out of her eyes. She'd pulled it back so it wouldn't impede her work, something she did only when no one would see. "Anu, Lee, but I could still see through you until I stuck my hand in your wound. If you keep using your Gift like this…" her voice caught.

"I'll come back," he assured her.

"Until you don't," she replied, lifting her eyes to his. They contrasted sharply, he thought, her with her warm olive skin, soft waves of dark hair and soulful eyes, her clothing always jewel tones that made her glow. He didn't remember what he used to look like before his Gift started leeching him to that other place. His skin was a sallow yellow now, his hair more white than blonde, his eyes looking blind save for the black hole of his pupil. The clothing he wore reinforced the ghostly pallor of his body, giving the illusion that whoever he was sent after was killed by a spirit.

"You're still wearing it," he said, surprised, seeing a gleam above the apron that protected her dress.

Smiling slightly, she reached up, bloody fingers hovering over the Ayleid pendant he'd found after chasing a mark down into a ruin. "Of course I am, goose. It goes with everything. I…I had Malero enchant it so no one would think it odd." She scoffed slightly, "Of course, he picked one of the most useless enchantments to our profession he could think of."

"I'm glad you're wearing it," he said, glancing forward again. "Are you done sewing?"

"I'm stitching your wound, Lee, not doing embroidery," she sniffed. "Don't try to distract me: You apparently need a scolding to remember not to do this to yourself. You're fading faster every year."

He shook his head, turning to look at her fully and ignoring the tug of the thread in his skin. Taking her face in his hands and staring right into those dark, present eyes that had always managed to see him, even when he couldn't see himself anymore, he said firmly, "I will alway come back. As long as you're here to come back to, I will always come back."

Orchid reached up, covering one of his hands with hers. His skin darkened to gold under her touch. "I'll hold you to that, then."

.

* * *

.

If it weren't for the sounds of her shoes on the cobbles beneath her, Nala would have assured all and sundry she floated home. Professor Nevio had been pleased as punch that Nala had found not only her perfect teacher, but a Nice Young Man. Nala had blushed and giggled at that, like any school girl. Never in ever would she tell the dear old man what really caused the blushes.

"Nala!" And of course it couldn't last. She was brought crashing right back to Nirn by none other than Amaryllis, wearing the most puzzled look Nala had ever seen.

"Amaryllis, I must say I'm surprised. What is it?" Nala figured she owed her at least common courtesy, after feeding her that much crow the other day.

"I told Uncle about your shield. He wants to see it."

"Yes, and I want to be respected for my discoveries. We don't always get what we want." Nala quirked an eyebrow at Amaryllis.

The Imperial cast her eyes upwards for patience. "Divines above, Nala, peace! Apparently, Uncle is willing to give you that respect, if you'd just show him the perfected shield. Can you not recognize a peace offering when you see it?"

"Seeing as I've never had one before, no. Really? He's willing to admit he's wrong? That's…surprising." Nala looked at the sky, thought a moment, and sighed. "I'm guessing you'd be in a world of trouble if you don't bring me back?"

"That…might be a factor to my persistence, yes."

"Fine. Never let it be said I can't be reasonable," Nala huffed and scrunched her nose at her.

"Your graciousness is appreciated." Amaryllis' voice was dry, but there might have been a shadow of a smile at the corner as she guided Nala towards the family home.

"Now fess up, he's not really convinced, is he," Nala stated after a few streets passed in surprisingly amicable silence.

"There may also be a bit of vindictiveness to my persistence. I may not be a powerful mage, but I know an illusion from a ward." Amaryllis scoffed. "I know what I felt in your bubble. And here we are."

It was a nice house, nothing grand and imposing, but well kept. It was a few streets up from Mittens', but the busy state of the street proved those that lived here, while not living extravagantly, were in no financial difficulty. The cobbles of the street were well-swept, each door sporting several stone steps to raise the windows well over a potential nosy passer-by's gaze. The brass knocker shone against the old wood of the door, and while the drapes at the windows weren't sumptuous, they were thick and heavy to keep out afternoon sun.

A maidservant let them in, greeting Amaryllis respectfully and curiously looking Nala over as she escorted them back to Master Carance's study, leaving them before the door to return to her chores. The familiar petulant tones of the man's voice when he bid them entry didn't bode well for the rest of the meeting.

The girls shared a look and rolled eyes. "Gird thyself," whispered Nala.

"Duly noted." Amaryllis returned before raising her voice for her uncle to hear her. "Uncle, Mistress Nala is here. She agreed to show the ward for your inspection."

"Heh!" he barked out, as good a sign to come in as any, they supposed.

"Master Goldchiotus," Nala wasn't sure how she kept her voice that polite. She'd always wondered how Amaryllis could swallow her pride in the face of her uncle's clear disregard for younger mages. "Whenever you're ready?" She prepped the ward in her hand, letting the glow brighten enough to chase shadows.

The man looked up and examined it for a second before smiling sourly. "That won't be necessary," he informed her, eyes shining briefly in satisfaction before she felt a sharp sting in her neck.

Realizing she'd been set up, she had just enough time to utter, "Dammit," before Nala watched the world go dark.

"Uncle! What? Why?" Amaryllis was near beside herself, kneeling next to her rival's fallen form and pulling the small dart from her neck in shock. This just wasn't How Things were Done.

"Be quiet, girl," he snapped, looking into the corner with an almost gleeful air. "I trust this will be kept quiet on your end?"

"Of course," a voice hissed, a female Argonian stepping from the shadows. "The Penitus Oculatus thanks you for your part in apprehending the conspirator."

"Well, I am a loyal citizen of the Empire, after all," the mage replied, looking satisfied.

"But…what's she  _done?"_  Amaryllis demanded, aghast. The censoring look her uncle shot her made her wilt a moment, before standing straight and staring him in the eye. "Uncle, what could she possibly have done to warrant this treatment? This is highly irregular!"

"That's none of your concern!" he hissed. "Just be glad she wasn't a known friend of yours. Honestly, spending time with criminals. Now, go. Practice your little fairy lights or whatever it is you're studying."

"She is under investigation, but she will not be harmed," the Argonian assured her in a firm tone that brooked no further questions.

Amaryllis looked between her uncle and the Argonian, and stormed out of the room. If that were actually a Penitus Oculatus, why wasn't she informed? Why treat her like a dupe? Her Uncle obviously didn't trust her, and therefore, he was no longer worthy of her trust.

"She is upset with you," the Argonian noted, bending and throwing the diminutive Khajiit over her shoulder.

"She'll get over it," he waved that concern aside, "She's a good girl."

Privately, Lizard thought the girl was more likely to go set something on fire, but she'd gotten what she wanted, and was under no obligation to warn him. Nodding politely, she left through the back and vanished into the shadowed alley.

.

* * *

.

Salonia lounged comfortably on her fainting couch. She wanted to stretch like some lazy, spoiled lapcat. She hadn't been this satisfied in…well, it had been a while. She was comfortably sore in places impolite to mention.

She idly wondered if the reason for her current contentment would show up again, or if he were done with her. That would be a shame and a relief all at once.

While he was quite the satisfying lover, having him around was like having a tame wolf. One never knew when instinct would rear its ugly head. She had no wish to be bitten, well, not outside of loveplay.

"Any particular reason you look like the cat that got in the cream?" Malero asked, leaning over the couch and looking down at her wryly as her eyes flew open.

"Yes, and you'd know better than any why."

"Well, you have no way of knowing my news, so I'm guessing that's my fault?" the scarred eyebrow rose at her along with the perfect side of his mouth.

Salonia scoffed. "I did not take you for the sort to need ego stroking, but if you insist." Salonia let her hungry eyes rove his very fine physique. "You certainly left me with pleasant dreams last night."

"Then I suppose I have good news and bad news for you," he said, reaching down and running the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. "I'll be leaving soon."

Salonia sighed. "I thought as much. The good news, then?"

"Half the job is done: the twins you requested are here in the city."

Salonia sat up in interest. "Are they? That is surprising news. Should I expect the rest of the job be handled as expediently?"

Malero took the opportunity to show off his perfect teeth, "Why do you think I have to go?"

Salonia waved her fan dismissively. "I have no delusions. I'm a simple diversion for you, nothing more. Your staying to keep a, hmm, frustrated Lady amused was never an option."

Lifting one of her hands, he gave what would have been a very gentlemanly kiss had he given her hand back rather than caressing the knuckles. "Are you amused enough to keep me one more night, or do you need to go alert whoever your partners are that the brats arrived?"

Salonia smiled. "Sharing the news won't take all night. Is returning after they're gone an option?"

In response, he leaned forward and captured her lips, "See you tonight," he whispered, then was gone in his usual disquieting manner.

Salonia took a moment to collect herself. It would never do for the servants to see her affected. She then rang the bellpull. "Send Joffrey to me, and have the curricle prepared. This must be handled quickly today." Salonia waited for the little maid to scurry off, before moving to the writing desk. She had the short "urgent" written across the back of her card and sanded before Joffrey arrived, bowing at her elbow. "Take the curricle to High Chancellor Hubro's estate. Give this to him, and only him. Go quickly." Let Hubro collect the others.

Too bad she hadn't thought to ask Malero to help her pass the time. There was no reason he couldn't relax in her chambers during the meeting. With a heavy sigh, she settled back against the couch, satisfied smile curling her lips at thoughts of the day to come.


	36. To Put an Antic Disposition On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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Gideon drummed his fingers restively on the table. They'd talked themselves into half a dozen circles already, and he was pretty sure the next time someone said the word "Emperor" at Tyr he would breathe fire at them. "I think I should have gone with Shell. It's taking too long."

Galmar chuckled. "You think the littles ganged up on her."

Gideon smiled. "They might. She's still finding her feet with them. I'll go check and be right back."

"Yes, please save her," Sorcha begged with exaggerated fervor. "The poor woman doesn't deserve such a fate!" As if to emphasize this, a lock of hair slipped out of her braid to bounce up and over her face.

"Don't let Sofie hear you. You might wind up with your own knitted blanket," Gideon offered from halfway out the door. He could still faintly hear the Breton asking what blankets had to do with anything as he went down the hall.

As he approached the house, he felt himself tensing instinctively. Frowning, he looked around, but saw nothing out of place, and it took several seconds simply staring at the house for him to realize what it was: Hjerim was eerily quiet, and that scared Gideon more than any dragon bellow could. He tore through the building, looking for anyone, and finally found Merc and Lydia strewn on the bathroom floor like forgotten dolls.

He fell down next to them, checking them for injury. The gentle heal spell he managed finally roused them. "What?" Lydia looked at him confusedly. "Why are we on the floor?"

"I had hoped you could tell me." Gideon searched them both over, relieved to find no injuries.

"A rune, there was a rune on the floor. It knocked us both out." Mercutio was groggy, and still in little more than a towel and damp braies.

"But why?" Gideon was worried he knew.

"The children!" Lydia's fear got all three adults scrambling, racing through the house calling names. The beds in their rooms were made, the toys still put away. The dishes in the kitchen hadn't been finished, the little signs of purloined treats that usually sprung up this time of day missing. The room Telki had been experimenting with the Wabbajack was empty, both she and the Artifact nowhere in evidence. Racing to the back out the house, Gideon skidded to a halt at a draft, finding one of the doors to the courtyard missing. Taking out the hammer, he crept up to the unblocked passage and peered out, eyes widening at the sight of the children slumped over on the cold ground, covered with a light dusting of snow. Gideon felt his heart stop, and then scuttle madly in his chest at their still bodies, laying as if tossed carelessly by a mercurial wind. It stopped again when an automatic count came up short.

"Gideon! Gideon!" Haffod was awake, but unmoving. Breaking out of his horrified stasis, Gideon moved to him, his hands lighting up to check him for injury. He breathed a sigh when his magic only found a paralysis agent to purge. "It was Demeus, Gideon. They…he… there was this strange person, he looked like a living ghost. He touched Demeus' head, and he  _changed._  They took them: the twins, Murril, Sura, Heron, and Shell. They loaded them on a door and carted them off. Luce…Luce attacked the ghost one, and she didn't come back." Grief and guilt sat heavily on Haffod's chest, threatening to suffocate him.

Gideon sat there a moment, even he, with all his experience, needed a moment to take it all in. He shook himself, and looked down at his squire's tear stained cheeks. "Lad, I know you fought as well as you could against them. We'll get them back, but I need you to quit beating yourself up if you're going to be any use getting them back. Aye?" Gideon's eyes trailed as Merc and Lydia went about reviving and tending the rest of the children, Merc having found a houserobe somewhere. Runa looked mad enough to go after them herself. Blaise seemed to be of the same mind. Sofie was hiccuping into Merc's shoulder, while a bewildered Frankie cuddled them. Alesan looked as angry and guilty as Haffod. He'd need to have a talk with him, too.

"I failed them," came the flat reply.

Gideon jerked his head back around to his squire, tearing his gaze from the rest of the children. "Did you quit trying?"

The lad blinked. "No."

"Then you didn't fail." Haffod still looked guilty and dubious, but he did seem to be thinking. That was a good sign. Gideon would watch him just to be sure; he couldn't let his squire wallow in guilt he hadn't earned. However, there were people that needed to know this happened, and as he looked around at Lydia and Merc, he realized he was the only one able to alert the others.

"Haffod, help Mercutio and Lydia get everyone settled inside. I'll be right back after I send a guard to collect everyone." Haffod flinched, but nodded. Someone was apparently expecting Telki would put him back on septic duty.

It took him only a minute to rustle up a guard to run to the Palace. He then went inside to wait for everyone to show up while he tended his heartbroken children. Merc took the opportunity to dress, while Lydia stubbornly wobbled around the kitchen and refused to sit until each child had a warm mug of sober mead to wrap their chilled fingers around.

Predictably, Fey arrived first, a hint of lightning already around her fists. She glanced around, her eyes cold as she turned to Gideon. "What happened?" she demanded.

None of the littles had seen Fey's scary face before. Sofie started sniffling again, and Frankie, trying to hold his own tears in, patted her back. Even Runa and Blaise looked impressed, if somewhat still mutinous.

Haffod felt his throat catch. "The twins and Murril were kidnapped. This person, half ghost, showed up and took them. Lucia tried to Banish him, but she did not come back herself. He did, and did something to Demeus, Demeus helped him take them and Shell."

Fey stared at him before sitting abruptly. "They were able to take Shell?" she asked. The one child she had thought she'd not have to worry about protecting anymore… "Wait, half ghost?" Alarm crossed her face.

"Yeah, he, she, whatever it was, grey robes, colorless hair and eyes, and could poof around like a ghost. We tried to fight him. Haffod got a good lick in with that flowerpot. Orien feimed Runa, and she stabbed him. It just wasn't enough when Demeus turned and stabbed Shell with some paralysis poison." Alesan sat glumly with his head hanging. "They took Sura and Heron, too. They didn't want to go."

"He did what?" she asked lowly.

"Demeus was a traitor?" Tyr asked, out of breath from the run and just coming in the door. He looked confused and worried, then grim as he looked around.

Haffod shook his head. "He was the first one the half ghost attacked. Touched him in the head and knocked him out. When he came to, he was different."

"Maybe this should wait until everyone gets here," Tyr said reluctantly, putting a hand on Fey's arm. "Just…the twins and Pearl…they're not here."

"Pearl wasn't in the courtyard. She wanted to study the gate in the basement." Runa offered as if confused why anyone would be more interested in the gate than sunshine and fresh air.

"I bet she followed them, and can lead us to their secret hideout, and we can get our friends back, right?" Blaise asked.

Fey was out of her seat and running for the basement before the hopeful question finished, her husband at her heels. They halted when they saw the state of the portal. Debris blocked the other side, falling through and littering the cellar. "You go find out what happened," Tyr said quietly. "I'll start pulling some of this down and see how bad it is. Some of that looks like roof tile."

She nodded, going upstairs and shaking her head at Gideon.

Gideon felt his shoulders slump. "How bad?"

"It looks like they brought the roof of the house down around it," she replied flatly.

"Well, crap," Sorcha said, the others piling through the door at last. Glancing at the children, she patted her braided hair. "Those are some subdued children. How bad is it ?"

"Bad. The foundling Young Ones, Murril, Shell, and the twins were taken by a Half Ghost who apparently turned Demeus somehow, and Luce Banished herself trying to stop the Half Ghost." Gideon ran an irritated hand through his hair. "And I've no clue where to even begin."

Talon's head jerked around. "Altmer, with pale eyes? Spoke as if he wasn't fully awake?"

Haffod and Alesan both nodded. "Yeah, you know who the Half Ghost is?"

Fey gave him a horrified look, "The Null?" she asked, as if hoping he'd refute it.

"I can't think of anyone else with that description but Lee, though I hardly have met every Young One," Talon looked grim.

"Alright, so we're pretty sure the kidnapper's this Lee character. What does that tell us about getting the kids back?" Galmar decided to cut to the chase. He'd followed in behind Sorcha, taking in the controlled chaos that was calming kids and worried adults.

Talon took a deep breath. "We know that the Elder Council hired Young Ones. It is possible Lee is involved with them. In either case, they have made it abundantly clear they wished to delay us following through the portal. Ulfric, your men should search Windhelm and keep watch on the exits in case this is a diversion tactic, but from the damage it sounds as if at least one went through."

"Wise counsel, consider it done." Ulfric bowed to Wemie and the rest then turned smartly to start ordering guards about, Galmar kissing Sorcha before following him.

"I'm sure you can use all the hands you can get to clear that portal? It is still active, I take it?" Wemie asked turning back from watching Ulfric leave.

" _ **FUS RO DAH!"**_ echoed up from the basement while the house shook.

"Apparently Tyr's about as patient as I am right now," Fey commented, already heading down the stairs.

The portal was clear, Tyr already through and helping Pearl to her feet while she cast healing on herself, apologizing profusely and looking horrified and guilty. Fey raced through and gathered her daughter to her, then they both proceeded glaring at the man.

"I always miss all the interesting stuff. What did you do to earn  _that_  glare?" Ama lept delicately through the new skylight, taking in the sheepish redhead and the combined glare currently skewering him in place. "And who redecorated?"

"Not now, Ama. There's been a kidnapping, and a possible traitor in our midst, or opponents that can scramble brains with a touch," Wemie sighed. "So kindly set aside the levity for the nonce?"

Ama looked around, thoroughly chastised. "So, do we know what's become of Mittens, then?"

"They hit him!" Pearl said, affronted. "I healed him, of course, but he's curled up on himself with the shock of it all." She sagged, fight going out of her. "And…they took Blossom and Orien again," she sobbed. "I wasn't able to do anything, again! And they…they had Shell. And Demeus was…" Falling silent, she closed her eyes as her mother gathered her close, then finally broke down when Tyr wrapped his arms around both of them.

"Did you at least see which direction they went?" Sorcha asked, shoving her hair off her forehead and looking stressed.

Pearl shook her head again. "They didn't. The mage pulled the roof down, then all of them just…faded. Not like a teleport, they literally faded. I could see through them then I couldn't see them at all. It wasn't invisibility, either."

Talon nodded, "Nulls have the ability to briefly shift themselves to another plane and back again to Nirn. With that many people I do not believe he could travel all the way to Alinor, however. I am unsure whether he could even leave the city."

Wemie rubbed her forehead. "They used the portal and went to the trouble to block it. We know Young Ones are in Cyrodiil. The Null took the twins and other Young Ones…it makes sense they're here in the city. Could a locate spell find them?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if they had shielded against it, but it's worth a try," Talon replied. "Merc and I can cast them and see what we get, then we'll have to split up and search."

"At least we've narrowed down neighborhoods," Fey sighed, then stiffed as an unfamiliar voice echoed through the manor.

"Hello? Anyone here?"

.

* * *

.

Amaryllis looked up and down the street nervously. This wasn't exactly the worst part of town. It was sort of still genteel, but just barely. It would cause tongues to wag for her to be spotted here, much less knocking on this door. Why did Nala pick the most objectionable house for boarding? She wouldn't be surprised if she'd rented a room here just for this sort of situation. She always had been one to buck propriety, and staying at a Sanguine house certainly did that. Still, this was where the Clairvoyance spell lead her, though she had needed to fiddle with it quite a bit to get it to lead her anywhere. Maybe she'd gotten it wrong?

Amaryllis huffed, and knocked again, louder. The door swung open slightly. The interior was dark and echoed with emptiness, though very little dust swirled in the sunbeams piercing the front parlor. No one had lit even the receiving lap, let alone the lamps higher on the walls or the expensive candelabra placed on the tables. That was odd, even for a House dedicated to Sanguine.

Stranger still to find one empty.

Shaking off her jitters and reflecting that she'd read some ghost stories that began like this and always thought the character was being idiotic, Amaryllis crept cautiously into the parlor and looked around, seeing only a balcony and twin sweeping stairs at the back, and severely out-of-date furniture that had the rare distinction of looking both comfortable and welcoming. "Hello? Anyone here?"

An angry, spitting hiss echoed through the room from the far end, coming from a scrawny, patchily furred cat with a crooked tail.

"Poor thing, what happened to you?" Amaryllis stooped down, to try to lure the poor cat closer. He certainly looked like he could use a friend.

Rather than come over, the cat hissed again, backing into the corridor behind him and darting away. Without the hissing, a faint whimpering could be heard from the door.

Amaryllis scrambled towards that whimper, mentally going over the healing and training she'd learned in her mandatory season in the mage's ward, helping those who needed magical aid. "Hello? Where are you?" She found an old man, curled up on a padded bench, wearing a striped sleeping garment. She allowed herself a moment to absorb the odd sight before compassion shook her out of it and nudged her over. "Hello? What's wrong? Can I help?" It didn't bode well for Nala's odds if she couldn't find some help here.

The man looked up, his eyes wide and full of tears. "Oh, no. Not now. Come back later. They took down the roof. It won't be comfortable now."

"What?  _What_? Oh no, I'm looking for Nala's friends. She's in trouble." Amaryllis' cheeks lit up with a furious blush as she realized the man had mistaken her for some sort of Sanguinite.

His face crumpled, "Her too? Oh, no." The man curled back up, putting his face in his knees and refusing to move no matter how she prodded. She finally sat down and patted his back with an ongoing Calm spell, wondering what her life had become.

"Well, now what?" she asked rhetorically, propping her chin on her hand and slouching like she was never allowed to do at home. It felt rather bizarre. "I didn't have much of a plan, but I didn't think it'd get sunk this quickly. Perhaps I should have tried the local constable." She snorted. They hadn't been much help finding the thief that took her mother's ring—she'd had to find them herself, then buy back the thing for twice what it was worth. She didn't think the Imperial Watch would do much better with a stolen person.

"Yeah, only if you want your time wasted. Hello, who are you, and why are you rubbing Mittens? Wait, don't answer that. You might tell me." Ama twisted her nose comically, taking in the well-to-do young woman staring at her in bewilderment.

"Nala? But I saw them take you, how are you here?" Amaryllis was very confused, and she might well have been gaping. The white Khajiit in the doorway had the same face and frame, the same startling blue eyes and unseemly curves, but the style of clothing was all wrong, and her hair was pulled back and away from her face. Nala always let a few tendrils down to soften her cheekbones and the line of her jaw, giving her a doll-like appearance that distracted some of their classmates in the most irritating manner. Not that Amaryllis truly wanted that kind of attention; she had a hard enough time dealing with the suitors her parents kept thrusting at her.

"Wait, you're looking for my sister?" Ama stilled, and her eyes narrowed.

"Sister? Oh Julianos, there's  _more_  of her?"

"Yep, you know Nala," Ama sighed. Her face shifted as what she'd said finally sunk in. "So, back up. You said someone took her?"

"An Argonian, claimed to be Penitus Oculatus. It didn't sound right." Amaryllis' hand stilled on Mitten's back. "I mean, if she were a conspirator, why not openly arrest her? Why enlist my uncle, someone with a known grudge against her, to aid them? That would look questionable in any court of law, and their methods...So, I came looking for answers." Firming her chin, she didn't allow any of the confliction she felt enter her tone. This was the most rebellious thing she'd done since refusing to quit her studies and focus on finding a husband, and that had only worked since so many good families sent their sons to the same school she attended. Her family took a dim view of rebellion, and searching out an explanation skirted it a little too closely.

"Oh this day just keeps getting better. You best come with me. There'll be questions. So many questions. I hope you packed a snack." Ama gestured the girl to follow her, and led her back to the rest of the family. Ama wanted to let her ears lay back, to let her tail lash her pent up fury and helplessness out, to growl low in her throat enough to give even Talon pause, but her training said, emphatically, "no." This girl was an unknown quantity. Until and unless she'd earned Ama's trust, she'd only be introduced to the scapegraced japer. They'd lost enough already to traitors in their midst.

Talon, Merc, Pearl, and Fey were gathered around a table upstairs, pouring over maps of the Imperial City and making notations, having tried several locating spells already and coming up with "too many wards in the city."

"Well, I found our hello-er, and it's more good news." Ama's tone was strangely flat and her smile and eyes a shade too bright.

"Is that sarcasm, because I could really use some actual good news," Pearl said wearily, looking downtrodden.

"Nala's been kidnapped. An Argonian claiming to be Penitus Oculatus took her from my home," Amaryllis interjected. Maybe this strange Khajiit had time to waste on being clever and blasé, but she had to get home before she was missed.

" _What?"_  half a dozen people demanded at once.

"My uncle, may daedra rot his soul, asked me to bring her home to demonstrate her ward. This Argonian jumps out of the shadows, pricks her with some knockout poison, and carts her off with some story about her being a conspirator." Amaryllis could barely contain her fury at being so ill used.

Every Young One in the room turned as one to Talon, who might as well have been made out of ice for all he moved from his spot leaning over the table, studying the map. Finally, his eyes flickered up to Amaryllis, something in his expression making Fey and Sorcha flinch. "How long ago was this?" he asked, his voice quite even.

Swallowing the sudden dryness in her throat, Amaryllis tried to count back in her head. How long had it been? "She was taken about midday, so no more than a couple of hours ago. I had to think of something of hers I could Clairvoyance." Amaryllis started edging towards the door. She didn't care for the kill-face Nala's 'teacher' was wearing. How did she ever think he was nice?

Ama was looking between Talon and Amaryllis. Maybe a subject change was in order? At this rate, Talon was going to scare her off before they got anything useful out of her. "Uh, so, what did you finally think of to use to find her, anyways?"

"Well, I remembered she came to the Library with him…so?" Amaryllis gestured to Talon, whose brow furrowed slightly. "I figured he'd be a place to start to get her help."

Sorcha snorted. "Well, ordinarily that would be too vague a connection for the spell to work, so congratulations on your timing on that."

Wemie looked from Talon to Amaryllis and back, raising an eyebrow. "I'm guessing we'll do the 'hurt my sister' conversation later?"

Amaryllis gulped, loudly. "Well, that explains the menace and murder face."

"Yeah," Sorcha agreed, examining the girl as if trying to solve a riddle. "How'd you get through his wards?"

Her skin twitched like a skittish horse as she realized why finding Talon had been so difficult: This Altmer didn't want to be found, and had taken measures against it. "Clairvoyance. It...it didn't work the first few times, so I changed the parameters of the spell slightly, then...fudged it until it caught on something."

"You 'fudged it until it caught,'" the Breton repeated, as if she couldn't believe her ears.

Shrugging helplessly, Amaryllis held up both hands, trying to look non-threatening but ready to cast if she had to run. "I've always been rather good at finding things, though it's never been a person before. I just wanted to make sure someone knew Nala had been taken."

"Did you try to find Nala that way?" Fey asked, her eyes narrowed in thought.

Amaryllis nodded. "The spell kept splitting different directions every time I tried, or fizzled out altogether. Wherever she is, there are a lot of wards in a small area, layered over her. They keep reflecting the spell off to other things."

"Nevermind that for now," Talon transferred his gaze to Sorcha, "Where did you normally meet your supervisor?"

"He likes haunting the warehouse district this time of day," she said sunnily. "Do tell him I said hello."

The Altmer nodded curtly before striding from the room, each step measured, so much coiled violence in him that even the non-Young Ones could see it.

"Haven't seen that in a while," Fey sighed, shaking her head.

Wemie was watching Talon and looked to be thinking hard. "Fey, who would these Young Ones most fear coming after them? I cannot think of any reason for them to want Nala. It makes no sense unless…"

"They're forcing us to split up," she confirmed, closing her eyes tightly. "Taking my children, taking Nala, taking Sura and Heron…most likely, they will all be taken to different places, forcing us to either split or choose."

"Doesn't that mean they'd have to split up as well?" Ama asked.

"These are Dessnia's," Sorcha groused, sinking onto a chair. "They're so scattered and numerous that they usually give the location of one or two to every Young One going on a mission to the mainland in case they need to pull out quickly or send information along. She's the backbone of the Thalmor information network."

"Wow, sounds like we'll really put a hurting on the Thalmor to take her out," Ama hummed. "I like it when personal vengeance accomplishes more than one goal."

Gideon had been thinking. "Yes, but we need to take her out in a way that discredits her, else, from what I understand, she'll become a martyr." Gideon snorted. "I will not leave them a rallying point.

"So, they're possibly creating multiple targets for us to go after…but to what purpose?" he continued. "Surely by now, possessed or turncoat, Demeus has told them what they're up against. What are they hoping to accomplish?"

"He may not have, yet," Fey said, standing as realization crossed her face. "The more sensitive the information, the more encouraged we were to deliver it in person, if possible. And the Imperials have been closing off magical means of communication for years. It may not be possible for them to pass anything he learned on until they're out of the city, if not the country. That would explain why they're trying to buy time: they need to scatter our focus so they can escape with Demeus's report."

"Is it just Demeus' report they're trying to get to Alinor, though?" Ama sat down and drew aimlessly on the map with a claw. "I mean, yeah, they're trying to scatter our focus, but wouldn't that just make the smart move waiting for them to high tail it out? How hard would it be to let the dragons just scan ships headed that way?"

"What's happening to the kids in the meantime? Are we willing to take the gamble they aren't trying to get them all to Alinor? And how well do you think Odahviing could search ships for captives possibly kept in the holds?" Wemie rattled off at Ama.

"Excuse me, but why are Thalmor after your children?" Amaryllis looked from one person to the next as if they'd grown extra heads, growing more unsure of this by the moment. Had the Argonian been Penitus afterall?

"Mostly, because they're controlling assholes," Tyr groused, then gave her a slight, rueful smile. "So you're one of Nala's mage friends? Know any good locator spells?"

"I used Clairvoyance to find here, but I don't know if I'd be considered 'good.' We were in negotiations for something less that rivals, I think, when Uncle betrayed both our trusts." Amaryllis grimaced and made her decision, "I'll provide whatever help I can, since I feel responsible for my Uncle's gullibility." She had a feeling there was no getting home in time anyway, she might as well stick this out, whatever 'this' was.

Tyr's eyes lit up with the admission. "We could use all the help we can get, I think," he said, giving her a grateful smile.

She was not prepared for the smile. She felt rather like she'd been run over by a cart, and she felt her cheeks heating up again. "Oh, well, of course. Whatever I can." The Nala look-alike behind her bursting out laughing was entirely uncalled for, and she could feel the rest of her face joining her cheeks.

"If you can be of use, please proceed," Fey prompted her frostily, stepping away from the table to circle to where Tyr was, standing over him protectively. He was still examining the map and missed the interplay, as usual.

Amaryllis carefully sidled around the possessive Altmer and her man to study the map. "Well, you can thank Nala, because I can actually help a little. She uh, showed my Uncle up a few years ago, and that embarrassment sent me scurrying to learn what I could about shields, including the shields used in the city. Like this one? That's the right place for the Archives, and that one looks like the Defense Counsel. These in this district belong to Brewers' Guild. They're always hiding brewing secrets from other members and outside competition..." She stayed at the maps, labeling shielded areas until she felt her eyes crossing. She finally stood up to stretch her back.

Some kind soul had put a steaming cup of tea at her elbow. Mittens had moved from his hallway bench to the one along the wall, cuddling a sleeping Pearl. Fey and Tyr were watching the map Sorcha was detailing Amaryllis's shield knowledge on in short, neat notations. Wemie was studying the map, looking for a pattern, and Ama was curled in a corner, petting the crooked tailed cat.

The tea was warm and soothing, and Amaryllis used the warmth to help uncramp her poor fingers and soothe the sore throat. "I'm sorry, that's all I can remember."

"Geez, imagine how much she might have remembered if you hadn't scared her out of her wits, Fey," the Nala look-alike sniggered.

A massive warm hand patted Amaryllis on the back, she turned around face to chest with the largest man she'd ever seen. Somehow, seeing him across the room hadn't prepared her for his hulking presence right next to her. "Thank you, Amaryllis, that's well a day more than we had before your timely visit." She could only nod at this point. His voice was deep and positively resonated in her back teeth. The worry crowding his eyes did nothing to hide how kind they were, or how long those lashes were…too bad there was a distinctive ring on his finger. The good ones were always taken.

Ama called her over to sit with her. Intrigued by her rather easy going and artless manner, Amaryllis settled into the seat next to her. "I feel your pain. All that yummy, and it's all taken."

Amaryllis felt her cheeks heating again. "I'm not…I mean, I wasn't…"

"My old boss is downstairs," Sorcha flung out from the table, "If you're looking for someone to kill off for a fortune, anyway. The pretty boys will positively flock to you then. Of course, most of them will be fops…"

Ducking her head in her hands, Amaryllis groaned. "Even if it turns out I've gotten myself disowned for doing the right thing? Come to think of it, why on Nirn would I want to subject myself to a lifetime of that…that…." She couldn't think of a proper word for it, clenching her teeth on saying more. Running from her discontent into her studies was getting harder and harder, but she had nowhere else to go.

"Mind-numbing, pulse-dulling, senseless prattle? You're upper-middle class, aren't you? Might as well be a piece of livestock," Sorcha said, not pulling her punches in the least.

"Social straightjacket," Amaryllis confirmed, then groaned. "But now what do I do?" Now that the work was done, the panic was starting to set in. Joking aside, what if they really disowned her for this? Or cut her off from the University? She had no scholarships to continue without their support, even if they decided to let her out of the house without a servant to watch her.

"Don't worry about it," Sorcha laughed, not entirely nicely. Her eyes gleamed with humor as she looked the younger mage over, "If nothing else, we can give you a lift to Winterhold."

"And pay for college how?" Amaryllis shook her head dully. "Father does not let me keep my own purse."

"Not a problem with this bunch, especially given the bloodlines in this room," the Breton replied, then put down her empty teacup. "Speaking of which, I have a father to check on and a fiance to…you know, he might pounce on me first? I'm rather interested to see."

Amaryllis felt her cheeks heating, though what sort of talk did she expect to find in a House of Sanguine? Ama, watching her discomfort, laughed softly, but still put a friendly arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, we'll find our own pretties to pounce on us." Not for the last time, Amaryllis wondered just what she'd gotten herself into.

Wemie looked up from the map. "It might be a good idea to go home, in any case."

Ama and Amaryllis both looked up at her, puzzlement clear on their faces. "Uh, why? Why send her back to those sticks in the mud?"

"Because we don't need that uncle she mentioned calling an alarm?" Wemie supplied. "Oh, by no means do I think you should stay, especially if they're as demeaning as all that, but for now? To buy us time? I'd consider it a favor."

"It makes sense, much as I hate it," Amaryllis sighed, both dejected and relieved as she thought of a way to avoid censure. "I'll stop by the bookstore. They'll easily believe I spent all day sulking in books."

"Good girl. Keep in touch." Wemie nodded encouragingly.

"I'ma follow, just to make sure she makes it safe and all," Ama casually offered.

Wemie looked conflicted. "Ama, they've already targeted one of us. She may be safer without you tagging along."

Ama cocked her head and spun around for Wemie's consideration. "Item the first: they already took the sister to hook the scariest mer of them all. Item the second, I know how to not be seen. Item the third: I'm  _not_ staying cooped up in here. Maybe I'll hear something at the bar on my way back we'd find useful. Not to mention putting our homegrown team on lookout. Right?" Ama huffed. "I'll even brown up before I go out. Okay mother hen?"

Wemie shook her head. "Fine, brown up and check in with your rascals. Be back before nightfall."

"Yes, Mother." Ama grinned at Amaryllis and offered her an arm. "Shall we shenanigan?"

"All this time, I thought Nala was the crazed one." Amaryllis muttered as she accepted the madcat's arm. Ama laughed all the way to the door, grabbing her brown dye on the way out.

.

* * *

.

It felt as if she'd been walking for days or hours. Either was possible at this point. The dawn hadn't come, but considering it was controlled by a Mad God, it might never if she couldn't break him out of whatever mood he was currently in. It wasn't like he would hold it to stay in bed longer, he didn't sleep.

There was nothing on the path with her, the road even more pitted and dismal than usual. The moss on the rocks had faded in color to match the stone itself, several shades darker than the flat, unleavened grey of the sky above. It started drizzling even as she looked up at it.

"Oh darling, you've been moping. Welp, time to fix that." Telki thought a moment, then shrugged. So far, she had waited for him to realize she was there, but apparently she needed to knock. "Where, oh where, oh where's my Rommy? Where, oh where, oh Where's my Rommy? Where, oh where, oh where's my Rommy? Where can he beeeeee?" Telki picked a direction, and started walking, occasionally twirling the Wabbajack in time with her song.

Strangely, the drizzle continued into the silence, the whole of the Shivering Isles hushed as if it were empty. Rain pattered down on the path around her, streaming off the lids of the giant mushrooms, which glowed softly in the gloom with a dulled version of their normal green phosphorescence. Several minutes passed with no changes, not even thunder from the continuously weeping sky.

Usually, walking in rainy weather was one of Telki's favorite things, but this was a cold, clammy drizzle, and even the air smelled heavy and wrong, not the fresh fragrance of a rain washed afternoon, but of deep regrets and thoughts best left forgotten, heavy with the almost too sweet and smoky fragrance from the giant 'shrooms. She was also more than a little miffed he was ignoring his song.

" _ **LOK VAH KOOR!"**_  If that didn't get his attention, she'd eat the Wabbajack without sauce. She was fairly sure she was in no danger of a high fiber diet.

The clouds paused, raindrops hovering in the air for a moment before heading back up into the sky. The clouds rolled grudgingly away, revealing a sky of velvety blackness, the stars so tiny and far they might have been forbidden to shine. A tinge of red to her front and right was the only color to be seen.

"Well, at least he left a light on for me." Telki trudged towards the red light, humming Rommy's song as she went.

Something rustled just off the path, bursting out to rush at her, snarling. She walloped it with the Wabbajack. "No!"

The creature yelped, bending its head away then slinking around her, still growling. It looked like a hound, only hounds normally had skin.

"Now, shut that nonsense up, and take me to him. Hear me?" Telki tapped her foot at it, wondering what imagination birthed the poor skinless hound. "Behave yourself, and I'll make you a sweater; that can't be comfortable."

Baleful red eyes stared out of empty sockets, their slight glow bobbing as its gaze traveled over her. Still slinking, it moved around her and vanished into the brush on the other side of the pathway.

"Of course, we have to leave the path." Telki followed, still humming, still swinging the Wabbajack. She idly wondered if she could make him a fur coat. Shor knew she had enough wolf pelts.

She wasn't nearly as blasé about the attack as she seemed. Telki had never been attacked in the Isles. She figured it was one of three scenarios. The first scenario was the simplest: a case of mistaken identity or simply failing to identify target. The second was a little more worrisome: someone taking advantage while Rommy wasn't himself. The third one meant she'd have to rescue Rommy from a hostile takeover. She was really hoping for the first scenario, but wouldn't bat a lash if it were the third. It really seemed to be how her luck was running these days.

Abruptly, the Skinned Hound yelped, darting to the side as a tree whipped itself around to swat at it. Tearing its roots out of the ground, a bug-like head turned with the creaking of wood to look from the Hound to Telki. The moment its focus shifted, the undead creature raced off, leaving her to deal with the Spriggan-like being.

"Well, hello there. How're you?"

A woody hand made a throwing gesture at her, then raced forward with a strange shriek. Telki raised an eyebrow, and then Wabbajacked it, making it explode outward in a burst of flour, coating the area in white.

Yeah, she was going to have to rescue his tail, and boy, she was never going to let him live it down.

Ever.

The red light flared with a loud crash before dimming, drawing her gaze to her left. Things seemed brighter in that direction, the mist taking on a slight glow that danced across the dismal, dark bark of the surrounding trees and the bases of the giant mushrooms.

"Right then, follow the glow it is." Telki walked that way with a light step and all her courage in both hands. She knew she was not only dealing with whatever took advantage of Rommy's state , but the full weight of his cursed depression, so she kept a light hum, a light step, and all her cheerfulness despite how she wanted to weep for him.

The mist brightened the further she went, the air becoming less sweet and almost charred, like pastries left in the oven too long. The gurgling of water cut through a faint crackling sound, much like last year's leaves being trampled underfoot.

"Do you know, your Telki loves you? Your Telki loves you, Your Telki loves you? Do you know, your Telki loves you? Loves you so much?" Telki wrinkled her nose at the smell, but kept singing. "I love you this way, I'll love you that way, and I'll love you-u everyday. Do you know, your Telki loves you? Loves you so much." She very nearly lost her nerve, when she saw the water on fire.

The ribbon of orange light ran in either direction, the current as confused as the element. The crackling was from the flora that grew too close to the bank, but the light was oddly contained by the corridor of mist on either side, arching and flowing over the tunnel of firelight as if it were liquid itself.

She Wabbajacked the water. An angry, fiery grummite ran out of it at her, waving a sock.

"Down boy! Or I'll 'jack you, too!" Telki warned, giving him time to stand down before she added even more to undo once she dealt with Rommy. She sighed when he didn't slow his charge and Wabbajacked him. He gurgled, then stretched, his flat mouth shooting out from his face to become a large, flat maw, though his razor teeth remained. His arms grew to almost the size of Telki, covered in scales like an Argonian with claws to match.

Telki wanted to rub the bridge of her nose. Of course, it would decide to become bigger, badder, and more impressively dangerous, wouldn't it? "Why couldn't it have been butterflies?  _ **Fus Ro Dah**_ **!"**

The creature went flying over the fiery stream to land on the other bank, roaring displeasure that quickly turned to a gurgle as a small shadow darted in, cackling madly. It straightened, stretched, then turned, waving jauntily when it saw her. "Madness is merry, and merriment's might, when the jester comes calling with his knife in the night!" he sang, pushing the creature into the stream and dancing across its corpse to land with a flourish beside her. "Dearest sweet Swaddler Lady, what are you doing playing with Daedroths? Did you want to stab someone? Cicero will help! Dearest Cicero will oblige!"

"Hey sweetie, how are you? I'm looking for a Rommy, or a Sheo, or whoever he thinks he is right now. Have you seen him?"

The Duke paused, giving her a solemn look. "Dear Queen should be avoiding our Dear King right now. He is…unfit company." Brightening considerably, he linked arms with her and pulled her along the bank, "But, oh, do come wait for him in Mania! Mother has missed you! And the small bloody-haired children!"

"Cicero, sweet Cicero, I have come to claim my king, and I mean to do just that. Once I have him back to himself I'll be happy to visit whomever you wish, but I have to get Rommy first."

Sighing theatrically, the jester only singsonged, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"And I thank you kindly, I do. But this needs doing." Telki dropped a kiss on the Duke's forehead. "Now, can you point me the way? Or must I find him on my own?"

Patting her hand in a kindly gesture slightly ruined by the drops of blood across his fingers, he assured her, "Cicero will lead you where you need to be, but do not blame poor Cicero if you do not like what you find."

"I'm not expecting roses and rainbows, Cicero; he shared the moment that caused his madness, and I wouldn't blame you, regardless."

"Good. Cicero needs his fingers. Hard to oil Mother without fingers."

Telki gave Cicero a quizzical look. "Do I want an explanation for why blaming you would cost you fingers?"

"Well after the Dutchess…" he slanted a glance at her and burst into nervous giggling. "Oh, never you mind! Never mind! Good Cicero will keep his lips shut on that! All will be better with a few stitches!"

Telki sighed. Everytime she heard about this Dutchess, she wondered if she shouldn't just Wabbajack her into a sheep so she'd no longer be an issue. "Seriously, the more I hear about her, the more I'm just as glad I've not met her yet. I don't think it'd end well."

"She wishes to wear you as a dress," Cicero informed her, not sounding as if he thought this particularly horrible. "I do not think she'd have enough material."

"Well, a sheep pretty much has its own wool for a dress, which is exactly what would happen if she ever tried it." Telki replied blithely, twirling the Wabbajack between her fingers.

"Oooh! Can Cicero watch? Cicero does love," his voice dropped an octave, "lamb chops."

Telki giggled despite herself. "I suppose. Wouldn't mind having you guard my back in any case."

"Oh! Oh, I can, yes," Cicero cackled with joyful exuberance. "Cicero is most happy to do much stabbing for the sweet, gentle Swaddler Lady! Follow Cicero!" Taking her hands, he danced her dizzyingly down the curving, ever-changing road toward the center of the Isles.


	37. More Than Kin and Less Than Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> AN: Trigger warnings for past mentions of, and current threats of, physical and sexual abuse.
> 
> .

 

Nala's eyes felt like they'd been gummed shut. They were heavy, but she finally pried her lids apart. Her arms ached, and she was surprised to find them wrapped around a beam behind her and tied together. She corralled her fuzzy rolling thoughts as best she could, and tried a simple untie cantrip, only to feel a little fizzly popping sensation, and her hands remained tied. She was drugged, apparently, badly enough her magic was out of reach.

At first, she thought the shifting room was due to her still drugged state, but given the steady pattern of rocking, the familiar creak and heft of timbers, and the pervasive moisture, she realized she was on a boat. How fantastic. She was kidnapped, tied to a beam, and on a boat. Nala shifted uncomfortably on the stool, properly surprised she was offered even that much comfort. Well, she couldn't stay drugged forever, and the sooner she knew what she was working with, the better she could plan her escape. She marshaled her unruly thoughts and took stock of her room.

The cabin was fairly large, for a room on a ship. Light filtered down from a door to her left, though a few lanterns burned dimly. Most of the light was eaten by the shadows in the corners, and it took a few more moments of her eyes adjusting to realize she wasn't alone. The far side of the room was barred off, wrought-iron bars forming a cage in which two familiar teenagers had been locked. Heron was lain out on the floor, Sura kneeling by his head, hands pressed to his temples. Between her and the cage, the shadows seemed to twist somehow, and it wasn't until a shaft of light from the door fell directly on Shell's autumn hair that she could even see the Bosmer, tied as she was to a post, unmoving.

"Holy Hepcats, who has the death wish?" Nala was horrified beyond belief. She could feel her fur fluffing at what Rommy would do when he found out. She wasn't even sure Telki could keep him from pulling an Alduin.

Sura jumped at the sound of her voice, looking up with tears streaking down her face. "Miss Nala?" she said softly, scrubbing at her cheeks. "You're awake!"

"There goes my hope that I'm having a nightmare. Are you alright?" Nala hoped some of the fear spike had burned off the ill effects, trying the cantrip again. Her wrists remained stubbornly tied, her hands balled into fists and bound with cloth so she couldn't simply cut her bindings with her claws.

The girl looked down, fingers brushing lightly over her friend's forehead. "They're taking us back to Alinor," she revealed, sounding defeated.

"Did they get the twins?" Nala sighed through her nose. Forget Rommy. Talon had enough dirt and contacts to tear them to shreds himself. He'd finally let someone in, and this happened. She was expecting Alinor to cease to exist in the very near future. She shivered, unsure whether it was the moist air, fear, worry, or some other unnamed thing she didn't want to examine too closely right now.

"Yes, but I'm not…I think they may have actually handed them over to the Council," Sura's wide red eyes glowed slightly in the dim light. "Miss Nala, Demeus…he's with them."

Nala had studied extensively, and had to learn a lot of languages to study everything she wanted to learn. She cursed in Ayleid, Aldmeris, Ta'agra, Dunmeris, Orcish, Redguard, and for flavor added the few choice Nedic epithets she'd learned. When she ran out, she rolled her head to take in the rest of the cabin. There wasn't a whole lot to see besides some crates stacked against the back wall, about four paces beyond the edge of the cage. There was a single cot in the room, slightly behind her and to her right, making it hard to see unless she twisted. A small figure had been laid out on it, tangled orange-gold hair half-covering her little face.

Nala thumped her head against the beam and groaned. Yep. Rommy was going to show Alduin and Mehrunes how it was done. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. "Any sign yet of weather gone wonky? It's typically the first thing to destabilize when a great deal of chaos magic is play."

"The ship hasn't tossed very much," the girl said, sitting back against the wall behind her and carefully moving Heron's head onto her lap. The grey pallor was back in her skin, the shadows accenting the darker half-moons under her eyes. "It must be nearly sundown by now, if not after."

Nala sighed. "So, we can assume Romulus doesn't know yet. Once he does, all Oblivion is going to break loose, possibly literally." Just hearing the story of what happened in Atmora and Alinor had been enough to curl her fur. This? This was in some ways a worse betrayal, and she didn't expect the Mad God to take it well. Forcing herself not to dwell on things she had no control over, she watched the two, her brows furrowing with concern. "Is he going to be alright? I'm assuming he's hurt, and not merely taking advantage of your lap to nap."

Sura shrugged. "They poisoned him and Shell again. I'm no threat, and I guess…they don't really think you are, either?" She wrinkled her nose apologetically. "The Justiciars seemed pretty skeptical when Lizard brought you on-board, anyway. They said you were the wrong 'kind' of Khajiit to worry about. They did give you another dose of magicka poison, though. And they were pretty horrified that Murril was growing up among heathens."

Nala was testing her knots. Didn't think her a threat? One sister had taught her how to use weapons, whether she liked it or not, the other how to pick locks and escape bonds. Though that one is usually more helpful when awake enough to finagle some leeway. She wasn't sure if she could manage it, even if she could dislocate her thumbs like Ama could; the bindings around her hands butted up against the ropes and held fast.

A faint, grey mist rose from the floor, spreading momentarily and brushing against her, chilling her. It faded after a few seconds, leaving a pale elf standing there, staring into the shadows at the back of the room as if he didn't realize they were there. Seconds passed before she decided to break into his reverie.

"So, hello, I suppose you're one of the ones with a deathwish. Hi, I'm Nala, one of the reasons you're going to die horribly. Another's knocked out on that cot over there. You left the other two with the Council. Seriously, what were you thinking?" Sura stared at her as if wondering the same thing about her, but Nala had found belligerent demands to work well for gathering information, if only by irritating those withholding it. She was also angry enough to spit tacks.

The Altmer blinked, then turned to look at her. Though it took him no extra time to reach her, his movements were somehow attenuated, as if he moved through water. Kneeling before her, he peered into her eyes with a puzzled expression, silent.

"The  _only_ chance you and your friends have to survive this is to turn this tub around, return us, and beg forgiveness, before you wish it were only an Oblivion Crisis," Nala said earnestly, willing him to believe her. "Not joking, not lying, not even exaggerating. Test me if you need to believe me."

"Your eyes are very blue," he noted matter-of-factly, still staring into them.

Nala cocked her head at the strange elf. "Are you already one of his? It would explain why you thought this a good idea. It won't help you, though. I'm not kidding. Return us. Now."

He reached out, gently taking her head between his hands and moving it so the light hit her eyes at different angles. "How do you hold so much color? So bright? What is it like?"

Nala took the time to really look at him, and then Look at him, horror and pity welling up inside her. "Sweet mercies, your poor soul," she breathed. Closing her eyes against it a moment, she shook off her consternation and returned to the matter at hand. "Well, if I had even a speck of magicka, I might could show you. As it is, it wouldn't help just telling you. But it won't matter at all if you don't. Get. Us. Back. Home, before the weather turns."

"We're taking you home, don't worry," he murmured, still examining her keenly.

"Really, send Demeus down here. He knows what I'm talking about, at least. How did the Saints and Seducers miss you, I wonder?' Nala studied the pull from the other side on the poor mer, and wondered what brainiac thought putting yet another syphon on his soul was a great idea. The Thalmor had so much to answer for, and she was sure she was only seeing a fraction of it.

That was bad enough, though. "May I at least help Sura heal Heron? You can watch my pretty colors at work, then."

"There is no point," he replied, still in that soft, impersonal tone. Releasing her, he turned just as the door opened, though his eyes never left her face.

"Well, that must be a riveting conversation," Demeus commented, regarding them a moment.

"Demeus! You have  _got_ to get us back home, before  _you know who_  comes looking for us!" Nala was frantic, looking around to Demeus, hoping she could get some sense out of him, at least. Her Sight caught the flicker of his aura before she could actually discern him from the gloom, and her mouth went dry. "Oh holy Hepcats, you were a plant." He carried himself straighter, he looked older, little about him now seemed like the unsure and angry-at-the-world boy he had been just yesterday. She wondered what they'd done to him that Telki couldn't See it. "You realize this plan is going to end badly, and soon. You're killing this team, and everyone wherever you're taking us. You know this."

Demeus sighed and turned away, going over to the cage to look down at the younger Young Ones. "How's it going?" he asked Sura.

She shook her head, looking down and away, and he sighed.

"I can feed her energy, it would help. Of course, you'd have to reduce the poison you're dosing me with." Nala wiggled, "You don't even have to untie my hands, just move me close enough Sura can touch me with one, and heal with the other.  _Please_. Do this much?"

"The moment I give you back your magic you'll burn right through those ropes," he said, examining her, then glancing to Shell. Even though she remained slumped where she'd been tied, he very carefully stayed out of her range.

"Demeus, it won't matter. The only way this ends well is if you take us back. You might as well let me help now; you won't have a later. Not if you insist on this madness."

"Sura has another task," he told her, then looked pointedly at the girl. "You know how to contact the estate?"

She gaped at him, and even Lee seemed a little more animated at the question. "That is not possible, Demeus," the Altmer said, a hint of curiosity and color seeping in. "Even I could not contact home from here."

"The way Sura uses magic is different," he said, holding the girl's eyes. "Very, very low levels, but it never runs out. It regenerates as fast as she uses it. It will take a while to reach, yes, but she could hold it, and she could make it subtle enough to slip through whatever barriers the Empire has keeping us from calling home."

Nala smiled sourly even as she screamed in her head. "You're not getting it, Demeus. It  _doesn't matter_  if you had all the secrets to Tamriel, they'd have maybe a day to do something with it before that place becomes burnt slag. Do you understand? Sheogorath, The Mad God, the Prince of Two minds. He is coming because you messed with his family. Hell, Sanguine might even help him. That would make not one, but  _two_  Daedra rampaging across the Summerset Isles. It literally doesn't matter if your news gets there or not. Think fast, because once the weather turns, it'll already be too late. Turn. This Tub. Around! It is the  _only_ chance you, and whoever you think you serve, have." Nala still vividly remembered the face Sanguine had made upon her causing Merc distress. The man she saw in that moment could easily cause the world to burn. She did not want to think what making Romulus mad enough to rampage would do.

Finally, he turned his head to look at her, blue eyes icy. "I will gag you if I have to. I probably should."

"Why are you so bent on your own destruction?" Nala furrowed her brows at him. "You know I'm telling the truth, but you are insisting on continuing something that will get you killed, get the people waiting on you killed.  _Why_? It makes no sense!"

"In your world, it must seem futile," he finally said. "Not in mine."

"Explain to me, what exists beyond the fury of two Daedric Princes pushed to wrath, please?" Nala looked to one and the other. "Because I'm pretty sure the Summerset Isles would be nothing more than a smoking pit when they are done. The only reason it isn't already is because Telki stopped him last time someone messed with his family. You messed with her family this time. She won't stop him. Hell, she'll probably help."

"Lee, go through the safehouses and find somewhere to keep her that's not here," Demeus told the Altmer, who nodded and vanished with more chilling mist. Turning back to Sura, he told her, "You will do this, one way or another. I know you can boost the spell, and I know you can get through barriers. Don't make me force you."

"Compromise? Let her use me to heal Heron, then she can send your signal. Your signal will get sent quicker, and she'll quit worrying over Heron. Make sense?" Nala offered on an exasperated huff.

"You are staying right where you are, and she is going to do this. One more word about it and I'm stowing you with the bored Thalmor in the lower decks for target practice," he said, shooting her a sideways glance.

Nala narrowed her eyes at Demeus. He was very lucky she was magicka poisoned, or he might be sporting a perfect small hole in his forehead right now. Threatening to send her helpless into such a position was low, and the lack of hesitancy in his gaze convinced her that he meant it. Whatever he used to be, he wasn't worth helping anymore.

Sura was pale, looking from one to the other. When Demeus looked back down at her she flinched, then glared at him. "I'm not above injuring him further to assure your cooperation," he told her softly. "I don't want to, but by now you know I will."

"You killed the others, didn't you?" she asked flatly.

"Not all of them," he replied, turning and going to one of the shadowed corners, a small crystal obelisk lighting up at his touch. He carefully carried it to the center of the room, setting it down on one of the cushions set near the door. "I was asleep for most of that."

"Yes, how did you 'go to sleep?' My sister's Sight is better than mine. How did you hide what a piece of work you are from her?"

Placing a small nightstand directly under the brightest part of lamplight, he took a long moment before he answered. "They regressed me. Suppressed all my memories and training for the last several years until I was, basically, as I used to be. Then they woke me up again when I had what we needed."

" _How?"_ Nala searched his aura. "I can See the splice, now, but it wasn't there before, and where was it in the meantime?"

"I was trapped in my own mind," he said, meditatively, "Able to watch and learn, but not act. I came out once in a while, to preserve my older self, but couldn't manage for long, and the longer it went on, the more difficult it was. Killing the thief, destroying the wardrobe…all things that my younger self wouldn't have done. Now, the part of me that was brought out is where I was, screaming at me. He'll fade, just as I would have had Lee left me there."

"The saddest part of all this? Once upon a time, you were a person worth saving." Nala filed that last tidbit of information away. That boy had promise. This one? Not so much. If it were possible, she'd see if he could be returned to that fading space.

"I was nothing," he countered, no rancor in his voice.

"Hogwash. You were never nothing until you made yourself nothing," Nala scoffed. "You were worth keeping, and Telki kept you. You were worth helping, and a Paladin of Shor helped you. You were worth befriending, and Lucia and Frankie befriended you. Now? Now you're just another Thalmor bully threatening defenseless women to get what your masters sent you after. Even when you know it's going to kill us all.  _That_ is nothing."

Demeus paused, examining the crystal. "Sura? Are you ready?"

"The sooner you do it, the sooner you can get back to healing Heron. Might as well get it over and done," Nala sighed, wondering what exactly Demeus thought this exercise in futility would gain anyone.

Sura nodded tightly, gently moving Heron's head to the floor and standing with difficulty. Demeus let her out of the cage, keeping a wary eye on her as she knelt before the nightstand, hands coming up to cup the crystal. The moment she was absorbed in what she was doing, the Redguard moved over to Nala, reaching past her and producing a scarf, which he quickly turned into a gag. "There are some things you definitely shouldn't talk through," he told her. She ignored him as much as she could with a scratchy scarf being stuffed in her mouth.

The dead didn't matter.

.

* * *

.

Salonia paced delicately, fan fluttering furiously, as she waited for her co-conspirators to show up. What was keeping everyone? After all, she'd gotten the brats secured when all other efforts failed, the least they could do was be punctual.

"Salonia! What is the meaning of this?" Alexia barged in, ladylike as always.

"You'll find out soon enough if the rest of our counsel ever arrives," Salonia smirked, "But it'll be worth it."

"Oh?" Alexia's eyes narrowed. "What have you done?"

Salonia's smile grew. Her fan waved languidly towards the settee. "Have a rest, dear, you'll learn the same as everyone else."

Amaund burst into the room, glancing around and relaxing a bit when he saw them. "I just got the message from Eirik. He said to come here immediately? Is something wrong?"

He was waved to the settee and chairs same as Alexia. "Once everyone is here, I'll be happy to share my news."

"Did you have to have us come to the actual Council Hall to share it, or was that the Chancellor's idea?" he asked, a tad sourly. He had orchestrated this whole thing, but he couldn't help feeling as though the Nord had somehow taken his idea and run away with it.

"Of course he did," Salonia smiled. "News this good deserves such a fine venue for sharing, I think. Plus, it will require, shall we say, legitimacy?"

Amaund's head whipped up, eyes narrowing. " _What?"_

"Am I too late?" Dum's quavering voice followed Amaund's. His tottering form shortly materializing out of the hallway, and headed straight for the sweetmeats left on the serving tray.

"What kept you so long?" Alexia huffed at Dum, but his mouth was so full, the answer was garbled at best. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Salonia, who only smirked back at her. Perhaps they'd actually accomplish something without Dum's more 'helpful' outbursts.

"Ah, you're all here," the High Chancellor said, coming in through the entrance to the back offices. "Lady Salonia, would you care to share your news, or show? The young woman you spoke of so highly has arrived."

"Ah excellent. Mistress Orchid, if you please? Show our guests?" Salonia graciously waved, and took a seat where she could watch everyone's faces.

Orchid looked just as perfect as the last time the woman had seen her, despite the fact that she was leading a small, slightly frightened-looking boy by the hand. The Argonian that followed carried a matching girl, who glared at them all groggily. The young woman curtsied, giving the boy an encouraging smile. Glancing at her with wide violet eyes, he bowed, then glanced at his sister. She glared and hid her face in the Argonian's shoulder. One of her arms was in a sling.

"My lords and ladies, may I present Orien and Blossom Amulius?" Orchid announced the children with all the cheerful indulgence of an older sister accompanying her siblings to their first social event.

"Salonia, you magnificent bitch," Alexia breathed. She considered the children. The boy looked biddable enough, but the girl worried her. She knew stubborn when she saw it. She might let Salonia foster her, but not Dum, never Dum. The little brat would be running his estate within a week.

"That's a bad word, you old biddy," the girl said tartly, proving her point.

The Argonian bounced her slightly. "Behave," she said softly.

Alexia laughed. "Are you staying as well? You might be the only nanny that could make that little heathen behave."

"There are more than enough nursemaids that specialize in recalcitrant girls," Amaund said, eyes narrowed as he examined the girl. "Though I think everyone would agree the boy has better heir potential?"

Salonia sighed. "So, I suppose here is where the bickering begins about who shall foster our dear little heirs?" She flicked her fan at Eirik. "Do remember who ultimately made this happen. I would like to foster them." It wasn't that she had any sympathy for the waifs. They were, at best, unbroken pets, but they could be trained, and would bring her both status and power. For that, she'd tolerate them.

Amaund shot her a sharp look. "I was the one that instigated this. I was intending to take them; I have everything prepared."

"You may have started it, but I completed it. I think that's more important, no?" She gave Amaund a dark, challenging look, "And precisely what, may I ask, have you prepared that my own estate is lacking?" Salonia sniffed.

"I have been researching this since we heard the news. I have all the best nannies, tutors, child chefs, trainers…they would be best off with me," he retorted, standing straight.

"Child  _chefs?_ Are you insane? They're children, not a new species of bird!" Salonia scoffed. "Obviously, with you, they'd become spoiled tyrants, the exact opposite of what we're after." Salonia rubbed her forehead.

Alexia hummed. "Well, we could always foster them separately." She shrugged, "Less fighting betwixt ourselves. I wouldn't mind taking the boy. Hell, we could rotate care if it'll shut you up and get this thing rolling. We can say the rotation's to teach them management practices, familiarize them with their people and governing styles, blah blah blah. Yes? May we move along now?"

Eirik was examining the children still, gaze hovering over Orchid a moment in a way that had her eyes widening slightly. "I'll take them for the moment," he said, hands folded easily in front of him. "It would look odd that you all had the facilities immediately available, and I can simply put them with my daughter. They will likely find the company of another child comforting. In the meantime, the Elder Council has started to arrive."

"Already?" Amaund shut his mouth on his previous argument to stare at the High Chancellor.

"But of course," Eirik replied, eyes lazily hooded like a cat, "We knew they would be here soon when we started this, did we not? I simply asked a few of the Councilors who had business within a few days of the city to take care of it first so they would be easily called back."

Both ladies present found their gazes meeting after fuming silently at Eirik. Alexia sent Salonia a sharp, barely-there nod, while Salonia regarded her a moment longer, and sent her a slow wink. If Eirik tried to keep the heirs all to himself, they might be in short need of a new Chancellor.

The Nord ignored the rest of the room to kneel before Orien, looking the boy over. Orien held Orchid's hand a little tighter and tried to hide in her skirts. "None of that, boy. I just want a better look at you," he said softly, holding out a hand. When Orien simply looked at it, then at him, he smiled slightly. "I have a little girl about your age. Would you like to meet her?"

Orien shook his head. "I want to go home," he said, then glanced up at Blossom, and over to Orchid. "I want to take Murril and go home."

"Murril?" he asked, glancing at Orchid.

She smiled. "A friend of his. She's on her way back to her own family."

"Ah," he said, rising. "Do see that she gets there safely," he replied, a hint of command in his tone.

"Anything else would be unspeakable," she replied, looking slightly insulted.

He made a noncommittal noise and went to the Argonian, taking Blossom's arm while she jerked back distrustfully. "Were all your mages on holiday?" he asked scathingly, Healing light arcing around them both. Orien's mouth dropped open and Blossom looked confused, twisting her wrist experimentally.

"This doesn't mean I won't stab you," she warned him, but considered him carefully.

"I'll watch my back," he replied, looking very amused. "Though it is rude to attack your host."

"It's rude to kidnap people," she replied, staring right at him, "Doesn't seem to stop you all very much." She pointed at Alexia, "And she has a potty mouth!"

Hubro actually laughed, then shook his head before going to the door and whispering something to a servant there. "Mistress Apatecia, your assistance is appreciated, but no longer required."

"We wouldn't want to overstay our welcome," she replied smoothly, giving another curtsy. Leading Orien to a bench, she helped him on to it and gave him a smile. "Be good now. In a few days, your friend will be back with her family, and you'll be all set here."

Orien swallowed and didn't let go of her hand until the Argonian put Blossom down beside him, and he could grab hers.

Orchid tapped Blossom's nose. "Don't let them take that fire out of you, little one. Ladies need to have a bite now and then."

"I don't bite. I stab. It's much more effective," Blossom retorted.

"Well, this is going to be fun," Amaund muttered, already looking slightly as if he were dreading it as the mercenaries left.

Dum had been watching the children with fascination since they arrived, and gestured them over to the sweets. "Come, come! Have one, please." Alexia could only facepalm while Salonia hid a smile behind her fan.

"We're not supposed to take candy from strangers," Orien said, ducking his head down and watching them all with wide eyes.

"True, true, one does not always know when a stranger is a friend or a foe. However, I am offering you sweets from the same as I am eating, so you know what I am offering is not tainted. Besides, I would like to get to know you two, so that we are no longer strangers." Dum smiled at them.

Color Alexia shocked. It was the most sense she'd heard out of Dum in years. She thumped the back of his head. "Who are you, and what did you do with Dum?"

He turned, huffed at her, and turned back to the children, smiling gently at them. Salonia was watching the interaction keenly. Strange as it seemed, the old fool might have the best rapport with them. Perhaps she needed to cultivate him, to cultivate the children. As nobody else seemed to be noticing, the smile behind the fan grew. Yes, this might work.

Eirik was speaking softly to a servant (who was too well-trained to stare at the children, but certainly kept glancing at them). After a moment he dismissed him, turning back to the room and watching Dum talk Blossom into trying a sweetroll with a faint air of indulgence. "The Elder Council will convene at one tomorrow afternoon. We will have exactly twenty members within the city by the noon hour."

Salonia fluttered her fan. "Precisely what would you have done, had I not been able to procure the children in such a timely manner, High Chancellor?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "I had every faith in you, Lady Carvain. Is that so surprising?"

"Considering I did not know myself what the timetable would be until I sent you that message, yes, a bit." Salonia shook her head. "Oh, I knew I would attain the children soon, but this soon? To have an Elder Council ready this quickly? Did you have someone scrying the future?"

"There may have been a babbling Khajiit that joined the Moth Priests recently, but I only asked the Councilors to finish their business near the city before heading home. Had this taken longer they simply would have returned to their estates and we would have settled this come summer," he shrugged.

"Well, Gentlemen, it appears I have a Council meeting to prepare for. I suppose I shall see most of you there. Good day." Salonia sailed out of the room, head held regaly high. She was quite sure she would be calling upon Orchid's, or rather, Malero's, other talents in the near future. Such a pity. She had liked Eirik Hubro. He was effective. If he cut her out, he'd learn precisely how she had managed to attain and keep her position and power all these years.

Alexia waited a good two minutes, the longest she could stand the spectacle Dum was making of himself with the children, before taking her less graceful leave. She knew what that slow wink had meant, and she was not going to sit idly by if it came to it. She'd preempt Hubro if she actually thought she could pull it off, but she was wise enough to know when someone's fin was bigger than hers. To put it bluntly, Hubro was the most dangerous shark in the entire Empire. So she'd wait and see. If Salonia actually did contract on Hubro, she'd be a part of it, simply for the spoils of war, and to dance on that jumped-up Nord's grave. At least the children didn't look Nord. She'd never seen such pretty eyes.

Amaund stormed out trying very hard not to look as if he were storming. They were cutting him out! No matter what Vicci said about "rotating" the children, it was clear they had no intention of letting him near them. Thinking furiously, he realized he'd need to find ways to remove their influence. Or, at least, increase his own.

Eirik watched the children until his carriage arrived, then rose and walked over. "Little ones, our carriage is here. Dum, would you like to take tea with us at my home? I've sent ahead to ensure there are fresh sweetrolls." The mistrustful little girl perked up a little, and his smile widened a hair.

"Oh, really? I'd like that, very much." Dum smiled gratefully at the High Chancellor. It was quite probably the first time the man had addressed him.

Orien reached up and took Dum's hand, despite Blossom's rather disapproving look. "Will we see Da soon?"

"He's still in Skyrim," the Nord replied urbanely. "Shall we?"

"Might as well," Blossom sighed. "Go on, bribe away."

"I can see you already have a healthy grasp of politics, young Blossom."

"Don't make me stab you," she replied, following him out into the City. Her parents would be doing that soon enough, anyway.

.

* * *

.

The two Young Ones gazed at the ship a moment as it came into view, only to be swallowed by buildings as the ground dipped back down. "I am not looking forward to this," Orchid sighed, rubbing her forehead. Bad enough she looked so out of place in this area, with her fashionable attire. The prospect of going on a boat again, usually one carrying younger Thalmor soldiers who assumed they could do whatever they wanted, made her stomach churn with nausea.

"It is most unusual for your mark not to call us a carriage," Lizard commented, hissing at a ne'er-do-well trying to sneak up on them. The pickpocket held up his hands and carefully moved in the other direction.

Orchid shook her head. "I think we offended him. Did you see the way he looked at me? I felt like the pot scrubber that's been caught in the lady's good jewels."

"So he's an elitist," Lizard snorted, her tail lashing slightly to ward off anyone trying to use Orchid's full skirts to stay out of her range of vision. "We deal with elitists all the time."

"It wasn't a class thing, Liz," she shook her head. "He thinks we're reprehensible scum, and he thinks the same of just about everyone else in that room. I don't know why he joined that conspiracy, but it wasn't out of any fellow feeling with the other Councilors."

"If you tell me he's a moral politician I'm carting you over to the Temple of Auriel to have your head examined," Liz hissed a laugh, side-stepping a pile of best unidentified muck in the street.

"He's not our problem anymore," Orchid said firmly, "and believe me, that's best for us."

"I do not know," Lizard said doubtfully. "You have always struggled with that aspect of your assignment. Those who have power over you frighten you."

"I perform well enough," Orchid sniffed, looking forward.

"You get better every job," Liz confirmed, giving her a sideways look, "It is your actions outside of the job that have started to concern."

"I've already gotten the talk on trying out new poisons on my brother," she rolled her eyes, heart pounding just a bit.

"That's not what I'm referring to. You're lucky no one has caught you two," Liz's sibilant voice was just loud enough to carry to her teammate over the clamor of the street.

"There's nothing to catch," Orchid insisted. "We've done nothing."

The Argonian sighed. "I worried when they assigned you to our team that you and Malero's sibling bond would interfere with business," she said, surprising the courtesan, "but I didn't anticipate you forming more dangerous attachments. I like you, Orchid. You are good at your job, but Lee is is only partially in this world anymore, and only occasionally in his right mind. He hasn't the capacity to hide this should it progress. Demeus has used your bond to make Lee more present, but even he can not go for much longer without reporting what he's observing. Likely, he is giving you time to come to that realization yourselves."

Cold despite the fur stole she wore, Orchid thought on that a moment. "If Demeus has used my ability to ground Lee to advantage, why is it a problem?" she finally asked as they turned the corner, walking parallel to the river now.

"Lee is Altmer; you are not."

"I told you, we're not sleeping together," she shook her head so hard a pin slipped out.

"I have spoken my piece on the matter," the Argonian replied as they drew alongside the ship, a member of the East Empire fleet that had been requisitioned to carry things to and from the Embassy, "What you do now is up to you."

"How'd brat delivery go?" Malero interrupted, hopping over the edge of the ship like a sailor and garnering the disapproving looks of half the people around them as he landed on the dock, coming over and swinging his arms around their shoulders. Liz shrugged him off.

"If I never talk to another Elder Councilor again, it will be too soon," Orchid informed him.

"Well," he said, removing his arm and looking up at the railing of the ship above them, "if it was the high-handed pomposity you were looking to avoid, we got one of our own. Came in to oversee half a dozen teams, of course, but he's dropping them in favor of us being far more interesting."

"Was it the Emperor talk or the orphan Altmer?" she asked wryly. Altmer, as a rule, did not let their children out of their hands. They had lost too many in the Oblivion Crisis, then the Great War, for them to fully recover their original population. Ones stranded in the Empire tended to be snapped up so fast their little heads spun, immediately sent home to be reeducated and indoctrinated. Finding an orphan was as big a deal to some of the more conservative ones as working to overthrow their enemies.

Malero snorted. "I think he was considering making himself look good by providing for her himself after the blood test proved she is, in fact, a Pure. Then Demeus told him she was mad as a hatter and liked rubbing soup in people's hair and he changed his mind."

Liz sighed slightly, one hand coming up to rub her arm. "Why couldn't the other girl have done the soup thing and this one stabbed?"

"Yeah, you don't have hair but now you have a few less scales," Malero laughed, following them up the gangplank.

Orchid paused as the group of robed Altmer halted mid-conversation, turning to look at them. That was never good. Liz kept right on walking—the black-scaled Argonian and Lee both got away with such behavior simply by being so unnerving that not dealing with them was a relief—but the siblings had no excuse to ignore the perfunctory wave beckoning them over.

The lead Altmer looked them over, pursing his lips. His Justiciar robes were immaculate, the gold bands denoting his rank gleaming brightly in the light. It was clear he thought this entire conversation was a waste of his time, though his second watched with the same relish as a bored housewife catching her neighbors fighting in the backyard. Given the Inquisitorial stripes across his Justiciar band, that wasn't entirely off mark. "You are the courtesan with the use-name Orchid?" the head Justiciar asked her.

She nodded, painting a polite smile on her face and giving a slight curtsy, "How may I help you?" she asked.

"Our Lady Dessnia is quite put out with you," he said, making her blood run cold. Next to her, she could feel Malero's usual restless energy still. "It seems you've not been entirely forthright with her."

"We've not had time to prepare our reports," she said carefully. "Anything she wishes to know or have elaborated upon will of course be included."

The Inquisitor snickered, tsking at her and wagging his finger in front of her face as if she were a naughty child. "This has been going on long before your last report omitted it, Young One," he said. "You know you're not supposed to play with your fellows without permission!"

The first Altmer shoved his second's arm down, giving him a quelling look. "Her Ladyship is quite distraught you did not bring this matter to her first, though I should not have to point out to you that The Null is not only an important asset to the cause, but a full Altmer. You have grossly overstepped yourself."

Mouth dry, Orchid gave him a solemn look. "I have overstepped nothing: the situation has been misreported. I have a talent for talking Lee back down to himself after he uses his abilities, nothing more."

"Nothing?" the second smirked, looking her up and down with open insinuation.

"I'd be a poor courtesan if I required sex to get everything done," she told him primly, her skin crawling under his gaze. "Just as you'd be a poor Inquisitor if you needed to torture all your contacts for cooperation."

"Whatever the case, Lady Dessnia has been offended," the Justiciar said, making Orchid's heart stutter at the phrase. Dessnia's temper was legendary, and her punishments…she kept herself from looking at the scar ruining her brother's face with difficulty. He at least had survived it. "The matter will have to be examined further. Until then, she has left orders for you to begin to redeem yourself on the journey back. Our report on your behavior will go a long way toward earning her forgiveness."

"Meaning you're at our disposal," the Inquisitor was outright laughing at her, reaching out to tug at the curl that had escaped with the errant pin as her heart hammered, panic setting in as she realized exactly how far her situation had fallen. "All our disposal, really. I think I'll have you polish my boots first. Then there are some things I've been  _itching_ to try. Don't worry, though, none of them will permanently scar."

Orchid whirled and ran, incredulous laughter following her as the second wondered aloud where she thought she was going. Her brain woke with the frantic realization that there was nowhere to go just as she reached the edge of the ship, looking out over the water of the harbor as if to underscore her plight. She had to get off the ship. If they followed through with their intentions…Her stomach lurched and sweat broke out on her skin, chilling quickly in the spring air. She wasn't sure she'd survive a second time, but Lee…Liz was right, he wasn't always in control of himself, and he'd slaughter them for it. Neither of them would survive the aftermath of that.

The steel cage of a set of arms closed around her and she kicked, trying to force Malero off balance as he went to drag her back. Air rushed out of him as she elbowed him, twisting to slip out of his grasp, keenly aware that he'd be able to sense her panic, feel her heart pounding so hard and fast she couldn't separate heartbeats anymore.

The Justiciar sighed in vexation as he and his second followed the fleeing agent, watching the girl thrash like a hellcat before the scarred human wrenched her around. The sound of snapping bone broke the sound of their footsteps as he and his men froze in shock, staring as the limp form of the girl toppled over the railing and into the water below.

The human man tilted his head, gazing down at the water. "Huh. Those dresses sure do soak up water fast," he noted.

His second gaped at the Imperial. "W-wasn't that your sister?" he demanded, appalled.

"Yeah," Malero gave a mock-rueful wince. "But she was much less of an asset than Lee, and even he wouldn't get away with killing a ship full of you, which is where you were headed." Bounding passed them, he slapped the Inquisitor's shoulder companionably, staggering him, "Congratulations, idiot, I just saved your life. Not like Dessnia would have forgiven her anyway, it was her third strike. Would have been a long, humiliating journey home just to die. Well, I still have to write my report. Have fun cleaning your own boots."

With that, he bound back around to the doorway going below deck, pausing slightly with his hand on the doorframe, gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white. Expression taunt, he gazed back over the water for a long moment, before the footsteps of someone rounding the forecastle hastened him down into the sheltering shadows of the ship.

 


	38. In a Dream of Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cicero was humming as they skipped along the path. Telki wasn't quite sure with the fog if they were in Mania or Dementia, but either way, things had not stopped leaping out of the bushes at them, much to the Duke's delight. "This one would make a wonderful cushion for Mother!" the jester enthused, holding up the bloody, brightly patterned fur he'd just more or less ripped off…whatever that used to be.

"Oh! That reminds me! I made pillows, there's one I think would go well with your blanket. Do you want your name in red, green, or alternating?"

"Oh, red, please!" Cicero cried happily, doing a strange skipping dance as they moved. "Bloody red thread for good, sweet Cicero!" Beside them, the stream continued to flow in circles and burn. Another grummite rose to threaten them, and Cicero kicked it in the face, cackling as it fell back into the stream and started to burn, body inflating with a strange hissing sound not unlike a teakettle.

"So, what can you tell me about what has been going on here? He told me to give him five days, and here we are now, and he's still….I've never seen the Isles this badly off."

"Oh, Cicero has!" he exclaimed. "One time in particular there was a giant chasm in the middle of it, but this is pretty standard for when the King feels very down. Things get a little confused, and the Fleshmage has to put people back together. She complains the whole time, but the King is father to her child, so she obeys him."

Telki winced, rubbing the back of her head guiltily. "Yeah, the chasm, sorry about that. So, care to give me a little idea of exactly what state he's in?" She was going to ignore the queasy little flip the whole 'daddy to the frankenbabies' thing caused. She and Rommy had talked about that, she understood the situation, and refused to give it any power over her.

"Best you see for yourself," he said, halting at the edge of the trees. The shadows ended abruptly, giving way to open air tinged in grey, the sky above clear of clouds and stars, and the field before them filled with dead grass and empty flower stems that rustled dryly in the still air, as if missing the feeling of wind.

Rommy could faintly be seen sitting at the top of the slight hill of the clearing, facing away from them with his white hair on show, also blowing in a wind they could not feel.

"Cicero, this will probably get hairy in ways I can't even imagine. Your job is to make sure nobody else interferes. This is solely between me and him. Can you do that for me?" She was so gonna have to make him a sweater or something.

"Of course! Of course! Loyal Cicero is happy to keep lookout! Do hurry, though. I had dreams last night." He looked faintly worried.

"I'll do my best. Thank you for getting me here." Telki kissed his forehead goodbye, and marched resolutely to her man in the center of that desolation.

Telki dropped to her knees in front of him, taking him in, and then laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm here. You said you'd come back in five days. I missed you, Murril misses you. Isn't it time to come back to us?"

He didn't react very much, pulling the second to last petal off a flower in every shade of purple, only for another to grow. "Real. Not real. Real. Not real."

Telki raised an eyebrow. She climbed in his lap, took his head in both hands, and kissed him for all she was worth. Not that she considered herself an expert kisser, but in her experience, no imagination could compare with a real, solid, heartfelt kiss. She hoped.

He pushed her back, looking up at her quizzically. "You're real? No. I'm becoming very good at hallucinations." There was a long pause, then a hint of suspicion, "You're not Vaermina, are you?"

"Compare me to that hogswallowing swamptramp again, and I'll hit you over the head with your own Wabbajack, you overdressed turkey."

"Not Vaermina," he said, mostly to himself. Lifting her by the waist, he put her on the ground in front of him and said sternly, "Now, sit there. This is serious." Picking up the flower, he pulled the next to last petal. "Not real. Real. Not real."

"Rommy! No flower is going to tell you what's real." Telki huffed, and climbed back in his lap, plucking the flower from him. "And I missed you. Murril's near inconsolable. If I don't get your crazy hide back down there to her, I'll have to bring her here. I didn't think you wanted that."

"I don't know where it came from," he said, looking at the flower in confusion. "They're everywhere."

"Sweetie, what's my favorite color?"

"Hallucinations don't have favorite colors. I'm sane enough for that," he scoffed, rescuing the flower from her grip only to continue to pluck it.

Telki sighed heavily. " I'ma have to fus you before you believe I'm me, aren't I?"

"You have her eyes and hair, but you're nothing like her. You're sweet, like Nydia, and you're kinda Aedra-y like she was," he said, pulling the petal off in frustration.

"Uh, precisely who do you think I'm a hallucination of?" Telki tilted her head at him. Could he have forgotten her completely? She felt her heart give a little sideways squeeze. "Do you know who Tyrlief is?"

"My grandson," he said, frowning at the flower still.

"Do you remember his son?"

"Well, Hallucination, that's where things get fuzzy again. Yes and no. It's hard to tell. I keep seeing a small little happy face with human features, or a small little happy face with Dunmer features. I don't want to think about either. Real. Not real. Real. Not real. How is this thing still growing petals?"

"Telki. What does that name make you think of?"

"Mixed things. Warmth. Blankets, the fuzzy kind. Music. Dragons. Is that what I called you, Hallucination? I'm sort of impressed with my imagination," he said, wrinkling one side of his nose. "I haven't been friends with many Khajiit since I got…anyway."

"The petals keep growing, because you planted them for me. You're not sure if things are real or not, so the flower can't decide either. The only way you're going to get out of this is to get through the fuzzy part. You have to remember." Telki felt the tears welling up, but tried to push them back. They wouldn't help right now. He just kept finding new ways to leave her behind, didn't he?

"Hallucination, you're getting it wrong," he said, frustratedly throwing up his hands.

"Am I? Explain it to me, then. Why does the petal keep growing back?" She snuggled down in his lap, leaning back on his shoulder, wondering if muscle memory would help her.

He sighed, flopping backwards into the dried stems behind them, gravity bringing her after him. "I had to have made you up."

"If you made me up, I'd be more like Felicia, you said yourself you never considered Khajiit. What if I'm real?"

"Real people aren't that perfect."

Telki rolled off him laughing. "Perfect? Me? Where? I'm the Divine Idiot to everyone else. Divine Idiots are far from perfect."

He shook his head, looking up at the sky. "You're bright, you're sweet and kind, you're beautiful and loving enough to want to encompass the Isles themselves. You're powerful and dangerous and completely unaware of what you can do and what you really are. You're playful, and clever, and when I'm with you, it's like I'm not cursed."

"You do remember; you're just scared it's real. Why?" Telki clambered over his chest, so she could look down in his face. "Why would you want to cheat yourself out of the little bit of happy this whole curse thing has given you? Why make Murril cry? Why deny Tyrlief and Blossom and Orien the little bit of their family that, against all odds, still lives? Why deny yourself?" Telki's lip trembled, and she found it escaping despite herself. "Why leave me behind again?"

"I failed them. I failed everyone," he said, looking anguished. "Martin saved Tamriel. I just watched him. Couldn't save Felicia, couldn't save Orien…Could something as good as you really have happened to someone like me?" He shook his head, but whether refusing to believe or in confusion was difficult to tell. "I've seen it both ways, lived it both ways. My mind is sundered. Which did I hallucinate? Which path actually happened?"

Telki pulled him upright enough she could straddle his lap and take his face in her hands, forcing his eyes to meet hers. "Now you listen to me, Romulus Amulius, and you listen good. You helped Martin save the Empire. He couldn't have done it without you. Orien lived a good long life, and had Tyrlief, that we—you and I—just saved from the codswilling Thalmor. We saved him, we saved Fey, and we saved their kids, Blossom and Orien, named after your son, you know. You also saved me. You saved me from sundering the Isles and getting swallowed by the curse. You did that, so yes, most emphatically  _ **YES**_ , you deserve some happiness."

A brief burst of alarm entered his eyes as the ground shook with her  _thu'um._ "What if I let everyone die again?" he asked.

"What if Alduin comes back and eats us all?" Telki snorted. "What if I accidentally  _thu'um_ my own head off one day? Nobody can live like that. Nobody should try. You have today. Live for that, Love, and let tomorrow take care of itself."

A slight crease formed between his eyebrows. "I wouldn't think that," he said. Lifting his hand, he looked at the much-abused flower. It still had two petals.

Telki huffed and plucked a petal. "Not real, oh look, real!" Telki picked the last petal and waved it at Rommy.

He stared at it for a moment, then moved his gaze to her, lifting one hand to lightly brush along her cheek, almost as if he expected her to crumble to dust at his touch. "You're real?"

"Still here, still love you. Say my name." She murmured against his hand.

"Your name is longer than the stars, Telki," he said, his voice still wondering, examining her features as if he'd never seen her before and was eager to commit each one to memory.

"Just making sure I wasn't about to take unfair advantage." She claimed his lips for her own, once again putting all her fear, all her love, and all her hope into it. Hesitantly at first, his arms came up to encircle her, pressing her to him as the kiss deepened. Threading his fingers through her hair, one brushed the tie keeping her tumultus curls neat and tidy, and he erased it, sending them tumbling down her back and pooling on the ground behind her.

She giggled. "You're helping me tame that mess when we're done, mister." She pulled him down on top of her. "But that can wait, you owe me five days worth of snuggling and stuff."

Gently, as if he were still not quite sure this was happening, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then cheek, her lips, and along her jaw. His hand ghosted down along her side and back up, resting momentarily over her heartbeat before curling around under her back, pulling her tight against him as he returned to kiss her fiercely.

Telki sighed happily, burying her fingers in his hair, running them through the strands, inhaling his sconey scent and purring to make his bones rattle. When he finally let her come up for air she breathed between nibbles to his bearded chin. "Missed you, missed this, need you."

The grass around them softened and bloomed. "I love you," he murmured just as softly, hand brushing along the outside of her breast through her tunic.

"Love you, too. I could love you more if you'd get us naked already. Off!" She tugged at the offending tunic keeping his scrumptious skin from hers.

A laugh rumbled through him, brushing his front against hers, "You're always so impatient," he teased, but their clothing melted away in an instant, his mouth already descending in a row of fevered kisses down her neck and shoulders.

"I  _was_ patient.  _Five whole days,_  Rommy." Telki wrapped around him almost convulsively. "Oh you feel like heaven. How'm I supposed to be patient when holding you feels this good?"

"Did you want to save patience for later?" he asked, teeth and fingers tweaking her nipples as he glanced at her, eyes molten gold.

Telki would have answered him, but that would have required speech capabilities, which got lost somewhere between the tweak and the tongue laving across her nipple. Her eyes had nearly crossed at the intense sensation zinging its way straight to her gut and promptly exploding in want. Raising an eyebrow at that, he lifted her thigh up by his hip, running his hand under it to brush against her core, a small moan escaping him at how ready she was. She rubbed against his hand, keening a little in search of more. Her fingers now had a deathgrip on his skull, and her thighs were squeezing him tightly enough if he were mortal he'd have cause for concern.

Sending a small spark to dance over her skin, making her twitch enough to move her without hurting her, Rommy caught her lips in a quick brush before bending, pulling her other nipple into his mouth at the same moment he thrust, starting to work his way inside her.

Telki's head went back as she arched to meet him, taking him deeply and fully, holding his head to her breast as she was swamped in sensation, opening the door between them so he could feel how wonderful he made her feel. He gasped, hips snapping forward a bit in reaction, one hand roving down her hip to caress all the neglected skin he could find. His mind opened almost involuntarily, but he was really passed keeping her out by this point. Love, lust, and an almost desperate need to hold her flooded into her awareness. Telki took all that he was, and wrapped it in her love, in her acceptance, and her own matching desire for him.

Groaning in reaction, he lifted his head to leave small marks along her neck. "Damn, you have no idea what that does to me," he breathed against her ear, rolling his hips so he stayed mostly inside her, but still created enough friction to not drive them, well, mad.

"You are loved, worth loving, and I need you to know that." She kissed his ear, running the edge of the auricle with her tongue before dropping a kiss at the top.

"Not just that," he chuckled, giving her a surprisingly sweet kiss on the cheek before sending a hint of magic along her nerves, trailing his hand back up to her breast. "You show me everything I'm doing to you, right now," he said, shifting slightly so that he brushed against the spot inside her that ached for attention. "I can feel how much you want this, every movement, every desire that flares within you."

"You make me feel so much, I want to share it back with you," she gasped a bit, things were a bit blurred around the edges, she was feeling so swamped in pleasure. No wonder Sanguine was the way he was, if he felt this good every time.

"You share so much," he said, nibbling along her bottom lip. "Let me give a little." Pulling her up so that she straddled him, he kissed down her chest, thrusting up into her with hard, fast strokes, hands caressing every inch of her skin, magic brushing over and through her as he let that go. The very air of the Isles seemed to tease her, the flowers brushing along her calves with every movement.

"If this is a little, I'm in trouble if you ever go for a lot." Telki clung to him, running her hands over his skin, relishing the feel of him holding her. His poor tortured skin provided a landscape of contrasts for her fingers to explore: smooth scar, lumpy scar, here a valley and there a waxy stretch where his skin had near melted off. Where he wasn't burned or scarred, his skin was as soft and smooth as a newborn's. She cherished all of it, because it had led him to her.

"Hold on to me," he whispered, one hand cradling her shoulders against his, the other going and steadying her hips as his own surged against hers with inhuman strength and speed. He closed his eyes against the wash of pleasure that flowed through her mind, opening them to see her incredulous, pleasured expression before she hid it in the crook of his neck. "You are so beautiful," he murmured against her hair, not letting up, enjoying the way their bodies were pressed so tightly.

" _ **Ro…"**_  Telki gasped as the tidal wave of pleasure that had been building finally broke over her, washing through and seizing her tight. " _ **Ro Mul Laas!"**_

He moaned as her mind whited out, ecstasy pouring in and bringing him to climax, lights bursting like stars around them. The Isles shook with her Voice, but they were connected to him and suffered no damage besides a few loose flower petals falling to the ground. Breathing hard, he simply held her for a long moment, then eased them down so that she was laying atop him.

"Oh. me." Telki sucked in a deep breath, holding it a moment before releasing it in a long sigh, trying to recover, rubbing her face against his chest. "I hope it's always this way between us."

"The day I stop responding to you is the day I go ask Jyggy to teach me algebra," he said breathlessly, giving her a squeeze.

"He teaches math? Hmm, I keep hearing it's related to music. Wonder if he knows how?" Telki nestled her head comfortably on his chest, idly smoothing her fingers over the silky strands of his meticulously trimmed beard.

Shaking with laughter, Rommy shook his head at the thought, "I wouldn't ask him to play, but he was the Sheogorath that brought music to Nirn. I wonder if that's where the system of writing it actually comes from."

"Mmm, which reminds me, I called for him, he sent a note. 'The Dragonborns must crash the super secret Elder council meeting.' I may be late for it, since I had to reclaim my Rommy, unless a certain Mad God wants to be very helpful come morning?"

"Come morning," he said agreeably, holding her to him a little tighter and staring up at the sky as the stars winked back to life. "I need to focus on restoring the Isles for a few minutes, then…just, stay with me a while?"

"How many times I gotta tell you? You're stuck with me for good." Telki yawned and kissed him right over his heart. She squeezed him tight in a whole body hug, just in case he didn't take her meaning. "You don't need me to move anytime soon, do you?"

He chuckled, "No. We can stay right here." Reaching over, he tugged on some grass until it became a green blanket, draping it over them. "Just give me a little to…apparently put out fires."

.

* * *

.

Icy tar grit and tile edges pressed into the flexible soles of her shoes as Ama scrambled quickly across the rooftop, launching herself at the next without her usual finesse. She landed and rolled into a full run, tearing madly for the next rooftop. She had to get back, and there was no time to waste. Her contact said the meeting was happening  _today._

The night had been long and frustrating. Explaining the situation to the Guild without actually revealing Young Ones had been a chore of careful wording, but she had little doubt there would be at least one in the Guild itself, and from what she'd seen in the last few days she realized that they wouldn't hesitate to wipe out the entire Guild. So she'd shared what she could about the twins and the "mercenaries" that had taken them, hoping more searching eyes would prove beneficial and not simply deadly. Then, she'd taken to the streets herself, hunting fruitlessly until long after breakfast, when she'd finally paused to rest and eat, and news had come to her.

Below her there was a shrill piercing cry of a patrol, "Halt!" but she was out of earshot before it got much further. It wasn't like she was breaking any laws or they stood a chance in Oblivion of catching her. She had places to be, things to do, warnings to deliver, and she had no time for a jumped-up self-important blowhard in a guard uniform.

In what was probably less than a candlemark, but too long for Ama's impatience, Mitten's poor abused house came into view. Ama pitched herself towards the inviting tree, caught a branch, and then slung herself through the opening in the roof, and slid down a convenient beam. By the time she sauntered into the makeshift war room, she'd caught her breath, and no signs of her mad dash back to base showed on her person. "Talon's not back yet?" Her voice was all that was cool, calm, and collected.

"No, any news for us?" Wemie crossed yet another dead end shield off the map.

"Amaryllis is home safe, none the wiser or suspicious of where she's been." Ama grimaced to remember that awful family. She could understand why the girl wanted to be far and away from them. If Mercutio's was just as bad…Ama pulled her mind back to the job at hand. She had more important news to deliver. "The Guild had important news. The Elder Council is meeting today at one. You have places to be, chief. Better get ready for your Big Debut."

Tyr's blank look of surprise vanished after a moment, his eyebrows lowering. "So they kidnap my kids and have a Council ready the next day? How closely were the bastards planning this?"

Ama could only give him a confused shrug. "I'd say too much so, but I'm no politician, am I?"

Wemie shook her head. "I don't like it. Either they were overconfident or that well planned. Let's hope Telki makes it to the meeting. At this point, I'm afraid we need her kind of luck to turn this situation around."

"I'm not waiting for it," Tyr announced, striding toward the door and grabbing his overcoat.

"Tyr!" Fey said, watching him with surprise. "You can't be thinking—"

"Of walking right in and telling them off? I most certainly am. I'll tell them in  _dovah_  if I have to," he interrupted, anger glittering in his eyes.

"They'll kill you," she protested, walking around the table and staring at him as if he'd gone mad.

"They'll try," he countered. "Are you coming?"

Wemie raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Miss this show? Are you kidding? I'll bring the snacks!" Ama hopped down, bouncing on her toes. "More of us show, less likely they can make us disappear, yes?"

"I'd be happier if some of the guards just found themselves taking a short nap," he said, glancing between her and Fey. "Think you two can handle that?"

Ama grinned. "Come to think of it, I know a few folks that would  _love_  to help."

"I'm starting to like the way she thinks," Fey said, glancing approvingly at Ama.

Ama beamed at her. "I grow on people. We'll be having sleepovers before you know it like a pair of giggly school girls." Ama stuck her tongue out at Tyr. "No boys allowed."

"Go get your friends," he said, his usual humor absent. "I'm going back to Windhelm a moment."

"On it, Chief." Ama slapped a salute, and dashed out the door.

Tyr took the steps to the portal two at a time, bounding through and into Hjerim. "Gideon!" he yelled, looking around, "Merc! Either of you around?"

"Aye, I'm here." Gideon came stomping down the steps. "What's amiss?"

"I'm attacking the White-Gold Tower," he said with deceptive calm.

Gideon bellowed back up the stairs. "We're storming the castle, who wants in?"

"Let me know when you figure out who's watching the kids," Tyr said, moving passed him to the courtyard. Looking around and deciding that Telki's house looked sturdy and Ulfric would forgive him later, he pointed his face at the sky. " _ **OD AH VIING!"**_

Both Mercutio and Erandur came hurriedly down the stairs, sounding more like a stampede than two grown men. "We're attacking Cyrodiil's capital? When do we start?" Mercutio sounded flippant, but tension around his eyes gave him away.

"Considering Cyrodiil is no stranger to magics, we thought perhaps we'd be more useful than another sword arm," Erandur added.

"Know how to shrink a dragon?" Tyr asked as the thunder of wingbeats sounded overhead and a guard's bugel rang out from the city.

"You again," Odahviing groused, hovering. " _Hi los ni thuri._ I do not answer to you, New Dragonborn," he reminded Tyr sternly.

"Well, Telki's out of Nirn and I'm probably going to need backup shortly, so I was wondering if you wanted to attack the capital of the Empire to help get my children back. Again."

Odahviing blinked and landed on the house. "I…" he actually scratched at his head with the curve of his wing. "Hmmm."

Gideon grinned. "Actually, my friend, I had an idea. Precisely how could the people of Cyrodiil say no to an emperor who flew a dragon into the middle of the City? What do you say Odahviing? Care to scare some  _joorre_ silly?"

Both dragon and Dragonborn stared at him for a moment, before a rather dark smile curved Tyr's face. Odahviing's rumbled laughter echoing around them, he said, "Let's petrify some bureaucrats."

.

* * *

.

"Lord Sheogorath! Lord Sheogorath!"

Rommy sat upright, pulling Telki with him and jostling her awake. "Mehris?" he said, very confused.

The Golden Saint making her way up the flowered hill was Mehris, though, wearing a Nordic dress and looking more frantic than was probably healthy for pregnancy. "Lord Sheogorath! Oh, Queen! You're here, too!"

"Mehris?" Telki shook her head, trying to clear cobwebs. "I thought you were on Nirn?"

"Dearest Swaddler Lady!" a voice carolled from the other side of the meadow, "I caught a strangely-dressed Seducer creeping upon you!" Cicero cried, bouncing over dragging Valori by the arm as she pursed her lips at him in displeasure.

"Valori's here too?" Telki called to the Duke. "She's a friend, Cicero, please treat her kindly."

"Valori!" Mehris cried.

"Mehris!" Valori replied, launching herself at the Saint coming toward her and both of them proceeding to ignore everything else as they got reacquainted.

"Girls, Girls! What happened? Why aren't you with Ralof?" Telki could feel dread pooling in her stomach. She worried that panic of Mehris' was well-warranted.

"Surely we could give the pretty ladies another minute or two?" Cicero suggested with an ingratiating grin, fluttering his eyelashes at the pair.

"The Duke has had enough vicarious fun," Valori said, shooting him a stern look. Cicero giggled and blushed, looking anywhere but Telki and Rommy.

"Good Cicero was just keeping watch like the lovely Swaddler Lady asked," Cicero put on a very wounded pout. Telki groaned into Rommy's shoulder. Cicero standing guard rather slipped her mind when faced with a Rommy that had forgotten her.

"We were Banished," Mehris replied, looking at Telki and holding Valori close. "And he sent us to opposite ends of the Isles!"

"Who? When? Why?" Telki felt her embarrassment dissipate as both confusion and worry warred for supremacy. She had a deathgrip on Rommy, probably crushing his lungs.

Standing, summoning clothing for them as he did (his usual outside-the-Isles outfit for him, a green and purple dress that formed out of the field for her), Rommy gave them a somber look.

Mehris and Valori glanced at each other, then back to their rulers. "We were with the children in the courtyard of the Queen's nice city house," Mehris started.

"The Royal Great-Grandchildren were sleeping on us," Valori added with a happy sigh that quickly melted into the rather irate words, "when the pretty mortal boy realized the door was locked."

"So the new mage girl confirmed we were sealed in by magic."

"And we tried to blast our way out—"

"—but the magic was so odd it was like it didn't exist until you tried to interact with the space it was and wasn't occupying," Mehris finished in puzzlement.

"So Sanguine's daughter gathered up all the little ones in the center—"

"—and the funny-headed Redguard boy knocked her down as a ghost-elf appeared."

"After the Second Page started running around screaming," Valori reminded her.

"Yes, after that. So the ghost-elf touched Demeus and he fell down and went to sleep. I think."

"And the younger god-touched Nord—Gideon's, not the blond one—he Shouted, and the ghost-elf appeared—"

"And then he grabbed Lucia, and Banished us," Mehris said nervously. "We can't go back while the Banishment holds—"

"—so we thought we'd better find you," Valori finished.

"The children…" Telki felt like she couldn't breathe. Her children were in danger, and she wasn't there. She'd let her children down. Things started to look a little fuzzy about the edges, and her ears rang strangely.

Strong arms tightened about her as the Isles themselves started to warp, Rommy's eyes gold from lid to lid. "Stay with me, Telki," he said grimly.

"Kay." Her voice sounded thin and reedy. She held on to him for all she was worth, her only anchor against the fuzzing dark on the edge of her vision.

The air around them changed abruptly, the scent of flowers being replaced with snow and woodsmoke, baking bread and warm cider. Rommy knelt, helping her sit on the floor of Hjerim.

Lydia, just coming through the door, shrieked, surprised to see them. Lucky for them, she wasn't armed.

Rommy looked up, eyes still glowing, "What happened?"

"We were attacked. Lucia's missing, the twins, Heron, Murril, and Sura were taken. Demeus, turned. It happened after the ghost touched him, " Lydia heaved. "We know the twins are in Cyrodiil. The men have gone to get them back. The Council meeting is happening."

While Lydia was talking, the kids had filtered in. Telki busied herself cuddling as many of them as she could reach, soft tears streaking down her cheeks.

Rommy's brows nearly met over the bridge of his nose as he listened. "Firstly, who? They took a heron? Someone named Demeus turned into what? And…" he paused as he finally processed something Valori had said, "Sanguine's  _what?"_

Lydia shook her head. "Runaway Young Ones. Telki found Sura, and then Talon and Shell brought in the boys, Heron and Demeus. Heron's been claimed by Shor."

"Alright, rescue them, and…" shadows started gathering in the corners, the beams of the house creaking as he added, "They took Murril and the twins?"

"The Council is happening now?" Telki looked up from her children. "Jyggalag said Tyr and I both need to be there. We can get the twins, then go get the rest of them. Yes?" She'd calmed a bit, able to think again with the reassurance of small hugs and safe bodies. These were safe, but she still had children that needed her. Time to bring them home and ensure this didn't happen again.

"Thank Me I'm already mad," he muttered, wrapping an arm around her waist and dissolving them into butterflies.


	39. What's Gone and What's Past Help Should Be Past Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sura hadn't moved in well over an hour, perhaps several. It was difficult to tell time in the cabin, especially after Demeus left following a commotion beyond the door. The already low-burning lamps had dimmed, one going out completely. Heron and Shell hadn't so much as twitched, and all of Nala's muscles were screaming in discomfort. She attempted to shift to a less muscle-spasming position on her tiny stool, but it did no appreciable good. Her nose itched abominably. The rotted fish smell seemed to have crawled in and set up housekeeping, causing a burning sensation. Sneezing did no good, and she couldn't even scratch her own nose. For that alone, she was considering peppering Demeus' legs with the blue bolt spell.

The traitor himself walked in as she thought this, closing the door and leaning against it for a second, eyes closed and taking several deep breaths before looking to Sura. "Anything?"

"I'm through the barriers around the city," she said dazedly, her voice so soft it almost couldn't be heard over the creaking of ship timbers. "I'm waiting for her to answer."

His eyes widened a bit, "I didn't think you'd get through so fast," he admitted. When she didn't reply, he pushed himself off the door and strode to the dark lamp, taking it down and over to the desk that had originally held the obelisk. A few moments with an oil canister and a new wick sent soft light flickering through the room. "How long do you think until she'll answer?"

"The room around her crystal is empty," Sura repled.

"You can tell that?" he asked quizzically. "She does have a cloaking spell on that to keep assassins from seeing her."

"The crystals absorb magic from whoever is near to power themselves, but my power is the only thing keeping it active," she explained. "You're making it hard to concentrate."

He quieted, returning the lamp to its former place and glancing at Nala, examining her for a moment. Holding a hand out, a weak healing spell went through her long enough to banish the cramps before he untied her gag. "Do you need any water?" he asked lowly.

Not trusting herself to remain polite if she spoke, Nala nodded sharply. Demeus merely strode back over to the desk, pouring a small cup of water from a pitcher there and returning, holding it up to her lips. Nala sipped slowly, rolling the water in her mouth to rewet it. The corners still ached from the gag.

"We've cast off," he told her. "In a few hours someone will be by to move you ashore."

" _Why?"_ Nala considered herself an intelligent person. Puzzles and mysteries were open books to her eyes. Demeus presented an enigma she could not unravel. It made no sense, and she needed to understand, especially since she'd been dragged into the middle of it.

Lowering the cup and glancing around, Demeus admitted, "There are a lot of 'why's here."

"Apparently, I'm a captive audience. Share a few." Nala allowed herself a daring eyebrow.

He shrugged, settling himself on the floor against Murril's bed. "Why you? To distract Talon. Why them?" he waved at the other Young Ones, "I was ordered to bring them back. Why the ship? To at least attempt to get the hell out of here."

Nala sighed. "Demeus, following orders at this point is going to get Dessnia's estate razed to the ground, and you and your group, if you're lucky, killed. Rommy is a Daedric Prince, worse, the Mad God. Knowing that, why keep following orders? I don't understand. You strike me as too damn smart to not have figured this much out for yourself. That is the most pressing 'why' I need to understand."

He shrugged, fiddling with the cup. "Because I'm loyal to her," he finally said. "She saved me. On the other hand, she just ordered my teammate gang raped and executed. Which is why I'm talking to you, I suppose. That and my head is a bit sundered and it's clearly affecting my decisions."

Nala cocked her head. "You do not owe Dessnia any loyalty. Any debt you owed her you've repaid a thousand times over for the things she's had you do, for the things she's put you through. Can you remember your days at my sister's house? You can still have that, if you want it." Nala wrinkled her nose. "Though, from what I understand, some reparations in the form of cleaning septic tanks may be in your near future."

"It's a bit more complicated than that," he admitted as the glow of the crystal flared.

"Who are  _you?"_  a voice asked incredulously.

"Move, Sura," Demeus ordered, settling himself in front of the obelisk. "My Lady," he said, giving a half-bow from his seated position.

"Ah," the voice turned to a half-purr, "my pet. It's so good to see you again. I was starting to wonder if that spell of Lee's would ever wear off." Nala's stomach rolled at the sound of her voice. It wasn't just the transparent play for attention, but the sheer falseness that left Nala desperately gagging.

"It served its purpose," he replied, face grave.

"Who all is there with you?" she asked curiously. "I can hardly see."

"The mage from the team I infiltrated cast this spell," he explained, "Her magicka levels are too low to allow for clear viewing."

"Pity," she said, a faint clinking echoing through, as if she'd set down a crystal glass. "I take it whatever you have to say couldn't wait for your personal report? Or did you miss me that much?"

"There is a very good chance we won't make it back," he said bluntly. "We've taken every precaution we could, but the situation was more grave than we anticipated."

"Tell me what you know," the woman replied, tone becoming business-like and losing all hint of coyness.

"The Dragonborn has allied herself with two Daedra," he told her.

"She's become a Daedric Champion?" Dessnia's voice was filled with incredulity. "That doesn't fit with her dossier. She sounded rather…sickeningly sweet, truthfully."

"She's not a Champion," Demeus said, "She's a consort."

Silence ruled for a very long moment. "My dear boy, do you need a mind healer?"

"The man the Empire credits with ending the Oblivion Crisis somehow wandered into Oblivion and took over a Realm," he went on, "He is now engaged to her, and Sanguine regularly visits, as well."

"I don't think regression is something I'll be trying again," she muttered.

"Oh for Hepcats' sake. Has he ever lied to you before? What do you think happened to Faloniril's estate? Guess who was there!" Nala couldn't stand the levels of stupidity she was hearing.

"Who was that?" Dessnia's voice dropped an octave in displeasure.

"The Dragonborn's sister," Demeus supplied, rising and retrieving her gag.

"Look, he's about to shut me up again, but if you want any prayer of surviving the week  _listen to him_. Well, actually, you might survive, as a shriveled hag in the Isles thinking you're a grapefruit for the rest of forever." Nala looked up at him. "I suppose promising to shut my mouth is a bit too late?"

He shook his head very slightly and gagged her again, returning to the crystal, from which faint irritated huffing could be heard.

"Is she still useful as a hostage without her tongue?" the Altmer asked waspishly.

"No," Demeus replied evenly. Nala allowed herself to like Demeus a little for protecting her from Dessnia. Maybe she'd try to get him rescued as himself. Maybe.

"Well, besides this rather dubious news about the Champion of Cyrodiil becoming a Daedra, and a rather insolent hostage, what else do you have for me? All that time and magic invested in this, you better have more than that, pet," she said, the warning clear in her voice.

Nala narrowed her eyes at the crystal and growled low in her throat.

"I have the mage and courtesan from the team I infiltrated. The other fighter was killed in Cyrodiil, and I was forced to dispose of the thief myself. The twins born to the Young One formerly Named Feyliin have been handed over to the Elder Council, who wish to make them puppet heirs. Lee brought the Dragonborn's Altmer foundling with us as well, and tests have proven she's from a Pure line. Unfortunately, she's also mute and prone to fits of madness." He hesitated a moment. "The Dragonborn's sister is also the current lover of the Young One Talon, and through luck we were able to take Faloniril's Bosmer by surprise."

"This  _is_ good news," Dessnia crowed breathlessly. "A way to control Talon and Faloniril's Bosmer to join my ranks? Pet, if you can get them back here you may just get a Name for this."

"Thank you, my Lady," he replied, inclining his head, "but I do have more bad news." At her irritated sigh, he reported, "Lee is fading. We knew we'd likely be his last team, but this may well be his last few years."

"I thought you said he was showing improvement?" she snapped.

"Our courtesan was able to talk him back to sense when he stretched too far," he replied with no intonation whatsoever. "Unfortunately there was an incident earlier today when meteing out her punishment. Her neck was broken and she was cast overboard."

"I…see…" the woman replied. "I was informed of their relationship some weeks ago, but I did not order her executed." Demeus remained silent for several seconds until she sighed. "Well, you'll be needing a new courtesan, I suppose. Your next oldest sister is nearly finished with her training," she said, making Demeus freeze, every muscle locking in place, "I suppose we could test her with your group."

"You are too generous, my Lady," he said finally.

"I know. Little waif was so scrawny when you brought her back I thought she'd die," she snorted. "Still, that useless mother of yours did spit out pretty brats, didn't she?"

Nala's eyes widened behind her gag. So that's the hold Dessnia had on Demeus.

"Well, if that's your report, I have other things to attend to," the elf said, sounding as if she were growing bored of the conversation.

"Of course, my Lady," he said, bowing his head again and not looking up until the crystal was dark. Gazing at it a moment, his eyes looked inward, thoughts obviously whirling.

Nala cleared her throat, eyes on Demeus. When he didn't respond Sura hobbled over and pulled the gag from her head, giving Demeus a rebellious look when he glared at her. "Would your siblings have anything to do with why it's 'complicated?'"

"That is the largest part, yes," he said irritably, eyes cutting from her to rest on Shell, who still hadn't moved save for the sway of her hair with the ship's movements.

"Now, explain to me, how sending a Mad God Tempest Tantrum down on Dessnia's estate is good for your siblings?" Nala quirked an eyebrow. "Get us back to them, and heart's promise, we'll get them out of there. No more missions, no more training, and no more "Little Waif' but a real honest to Aedra name."

Standing, he walked over and jerked the gag out of Sura's hand. "I really wish you'd stop assuming you know everything," he groused, sounding much more like the Demeus they knew.

"Then tell me 'everything,'" Nala huffed. "I can only go with what information I have! Right now, it looks like you're bringing nine kinds of hell to the people you wanted to protect!" Nala thumped her head on the pole, watching him walk around brightening the lamps. "I've no idea why, but Hepcats help me, I still think there's a person in there worth helping, but you're not giving me enough to help you with!"

"I don't need to explain myself to anyone but Lady Dessnia," he replied, "and if I was ever worth helping, it was long before she found me."

"Hogwash. She's the last person you owe anything to." Nala narrowed her eyes at him. "But the person that saved me just now from Dessnia? Him I might be willing to help, if he'd bloomin' let me."

"Are you going to be silent, or do I need to gag you again?" he demanded.

Nala gave him her sunniest smile. "Well, I'm all kinds of quiet when I'm listening?"

"Gag then," he said, then turned to Sura, "You have another spell to cast. I'll set the location."

Looking suspicious, Sura knelt before the obelisk again, watching him expectantly. As soon as he touched the crystal and focused, her eyes widened before closing. "It should be faster this time," she said.

Demeus nodded, then returned to Nala with the gag. "Since you can't seem to keep your mouth shut any more than I apparently can."

Nala sighed through her nose. "I wish you'd let me help!"

"You're helping by making sure your lover doesn't do to this ship what he did to the last one he was ordered to take out," he replied.

"No, he's going to tear this ship stem to stern to get me back in one piece. That still doesn't end well for you. Let. Me. Help." Nala smirked. "I may or may not have taught him some devastatingly sneaky distance spells of death; you may not get a chance to explain yourself." Her imagination supplied a rather graphic image of Demeus with the tell tale burn hole in the middle of his forehead, and her smirk turned sickly around the corners.

"He was already quite proficient in that department, but thanks for the warning," the Redguard replied, shoving the gag back in her mouth. "How much longer, Sura?"

"Now, apparently," she said as a face filled the crystal, "Looks like we've cleared the city," she added, glancing about as if she could see the wards missing.

"Is there a reason you are wasting my time, mixed breed?" the handsome Bosmer man asked, his tone polite even if his words were less so. Sura gaped at him a moment before she was quickly shuffled back into the cage with Heron. Glaring, she sat and went right back to work on her teammate's injury.

Demeus jerked the crystal around until it faced Shell, then went over and very gingerly tilted her head back until her face was visible. With the lamps burning brighter, her armor no longer cloaked her in shadow, and her hair shone like an ember.

"…I'm listening."

"This ship is headed to Lady Dessnia's estate," Demeus informed him, sitting in front of the crystal again. "Her Ladyship intends to re-educate her."

Nala's brows drew down. She guessed the Bosmer in the crystal must know of Shell, to have such a reaction, but what possible game could Demeus be playing? It made no sense.

The elf snorted derisively. "I doubt you'll manage to get her all the way there. What do you want, human?"

"If, despite your expectations, this ship does return with her to Dessnia's estate, it will arrive in three weeks, weather favoring. You have sufficient power to demand she be returned to your forces upon arrival."

Examining the Redguard at length, the Bosmer leaned forward, the light of the crystal glittering off green eyes and a set of curling, antler-like horns, "Listen here, human. I don't know how you unwound yourself from that vapid virago's finger, but whatever your intentions, if you lay one finger on my daughter, I will personally hunt you down. I will retrieve her, but she will join me on her terms, not yours, and certainly not on Dessnia's."

"That's fine," Demeus replied, ignoring Nala's sucked-in breath.

"I'll have one of mine waiting for your ship. If she hasn't killed you all by then," the man said archly. The crystal went dark before Demeus could make any sort of reply.

Nala tried to fit the new pieces together some kind of way that made sense. Demeus kidnapped Shell, then arranged for Shell's father to claim her, keeping her safe from Dessnia. She couldn't fathom it. Why go through the motions in the first place? Any way she turned it, it looked to her like he was taking ten steps out of his way to accomplish the same thing coming clean and helping them might accomplish, and with much less heartache all around, so  _why_? She also wondered how he was going to try to play off the fact that this guy somehow knew to be waiting on the boat. Dessnia would never win any intelligence awards, but her suspicious nature more than made up for it.

Hefting the crystal, Demeus carried it back to the desk, storing it in the velvet-lined box he'd pulled it from and carefully stowing it away. "Well, you must be positively bursting with questions by now," he remarked, pulling the gag back off.

Nala cleared her throat, smacking her mouth to wet it again. "Just one, why do everything the difficult way?" She pointed her chin at the box. "Well, two, then. How were you planning to keep Dessnia off you? She's going to be suspicious when one of his men just happens to be there when the boat lands."

"Onda has a way of knowing things everyone else wishes he didn't," Demeus countered. "It wouldn't be the first time he showed up demanding a Bosmer Young One. Most of the time, he gets his way."

"Because Dessnia is that reasonable, right?" Nala shook her head. "Look, I have only what you give me, and what I already know to go on. You're trying to do the right thing, as best as I can tell, but you're going to get yourself and your siblings killed if you don't get me and them back to our home. I don't want that for you."

About to reply, Demeus's mouth shut as grey smoke filled the room, blooming outward with none of the fogbank slowness it had previously displayed.

Lee snapped together from the fog, his skin flushing dark gold to nearly white, his hair rapidly cycling from a dark brown to grey to transparent as he strode up to his team leader, face inches from his as his eyes pinned. "I can't find her."

Demeus stepped back and closed his eyes. Lee didn't move, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Nala ventured a gentle. "Lee?" He certainly fit the bill of a 'fading' person, and septims to sweet rolls it was the courtesan he couldn't find. Demeus apparently wasn't going to tell him. "Lee, someone else sent word to Dessnia. She had Orchid punished, and she fell overboard."

The Altmer's head turned jerkily to look at her, eyes wide. Blue flooded in and faded. His face may have just as well have been carven stone, but a rising keen filled the air, crescendoing until Sura threw her hands over her ears in protest and the very ship shook with it.

"Lee!" Demeus shouted, staggering back, his face lined with pain. "Lee, stop!"

Murril woke abruptly, hands over her own ears as her eyes rolled wildly. The ship pitched and she gasped, paling.

"Murril? I'm here baby, come here," Nala called painfully. A ship was a very bad place to have her, given the little that had been shared. Knowing there were living breathing people, people she knew and trusted, might make enough difference. Nala could only hope. Lee's wailing certainly wasn't helping, though.

Raising her head, the little Altmer's face filled with fright as she spotted Lee, her fingers curling in her hair and tugging, no longer covering her ears. An answering shriek rose above Lee's, and his head snapped back around to stare. As abruptly as the wailing started, it stopped as he vanished. Murril continued to scream, her eyes dull and unseeing.

Demeus cursed, a trickle of blood coming down the side of his neck from one ear, reaching for Murril. Her scream cut off as she dodged under his hand, rolling off the bed and running to the door, banging on it.

"Murril!" Demeus tried, stumbling as he tried to find his balance with a ruptured eardrum.

"Demeus!" a dusky-scaled Argonian threw open the door, and Murril rushed out, nearly knocking her over. "What on Nirn?"

"Lee found out about Orchid," Demeus said painfully.

"Did he find out Malero did it?" she asked worriedly.

"He'd be dead if he did."

"We may have bigger problems," his second confessed, hissing more pronounced with stress. "Nine dead. No one saw a thing."

Shoulders slumping in defeat, he stated, "Talon."

Liz nodded, "Talon."

"Demeus, for the love of everyone you don't want dead on this boat,  _turn me loose_." Nala wriggled against her bonds.

Liz glanced at her in astonishment. "Why isn't she gagged?"

"I was feeling gregarious," he supplied, slipping past her. "Lock them in."

Giving them all a dubious look, Liz closed the door behind them, the sound of a lock turning and a bar lowering echoing in the room.

"Seriously? Did locked doors and bars stop you?" Nala called after them. "Don't get dead!"

"The more stressed you are, the more you remind me of Telki," Shell said, raising her head and not even looking groggy. Rolling her neck, she complained, "I thought they'd never leave."

"How much did you hear?" Nala asked. "Because the boy makes no sense to me at all."

"Pretty much everything since he came back in," Shell said, frowning, then wincing as she moved her shoulders. Collecting herself a moment, she added, "Either Demeus really underestimated how much poison I've ingested over the years, or he wanted me to overhear. Honestly, I'm having trouble figuring out which one it is."

"He's certainly acting conflicted," Sura agreed, kneeling by the door to her cage with one hand pressed against it. "He's seen me warp locks open before."

Nala groaned. "He's setting himself up to fail, and is doing so in a way he's certain not to survive it? He's punishing himself."

"I have two current theories," Shell said, watching Sura stand and back up, "And you better not be about to do what it looks like you're about to do."

"It's a strong lock," Sura said apologetically, then kicked the thing, promptly falling on her bad ankle with a muffled cry of pain as the door swung open.

Heaving a hefty sigh, Nala lolled her head over towards Sura. "You realize there's other ways we might have done that. How bad's your ankle now?"

"I probably shouldn't try that again," the girl answered, crawling out of the cage and looking around.

"Sura, I am going to ask you to do something fairly awkward," Shell said with a sigh.

The girl gave her a despairing look, "Where are you hiding the lockpicks?" she asked, earning her a weak chuckle.

"There's a pouch between my breasts," Shell replied with a pained smile. "Get that out, and we won't need lockpicks."

Looking dubious, Sura confusedly looked for the fastening on the armor before falling backwards again as the entire breastplate faded to black smoke that hovered around the Bosmer's form, melding with the shadows. Quickly, her hand darted in and pulled a small bag from the moving darkness, which obligingly turned back to leather. "How did you…"

"The armor comes with a silence agreement and my shoulders are killing me," Shell replied shortly. "The poison has numbed the pain somewhat, but it's wearing off."

"A…key?" Sura said, reaching into the bag and drawing out the strange object.

"A very enchanted key," the Bosmer confirmed.

"Shell? Are you keeping the kinds of friends Telki's keeping? That key looks…yeah." Nala was trying not to cross her eyes looking at it. To say it has some very familiar, very hefty mojo was an understatement. She wanted to study it.

"Friend is such a strong word," Shell groaned, her arms falling forward limply as her bonds were removed. "Oh, Aedra," she whimpered. "Get Nala free. Do either of you know how to shove these back in the socket or do we need to get Heron awake?"

"I do, we worked caravans as guards, remember?" Nala's mouth twisted. "If I had any magic right now, I could possibly do a little something about the swelling."

"Potions, right front pouch. It has a holding enchantment, they all do," Shell hissed out through gritted teeth. Sura was hastily taking the key to the manacles and ropes that bound Nala, deciding not to mention how the latter simply unknotted themselves and fell away.

"Bless you, Sura." Nala stumbled over to Shell, her legs still cramped from the unpleasant position she'd been in for who knew how long. "Okay, here we go, and I'm apologizing beforehand." Nala braced her feet, positioned her grip just so, and forced Shell's shoulder back in place. The sound was enough to lay Nala's ears back, and she had to do the other one still. As soon as it was done, she shifted around Shell and repeated the procedure. "All done, and I hope I don't have to do that again anytime soon."

Shell allowed herself a moment to bend over, cursing, before sitting up and gingerly reaching for her potions, shaky hands pulling out a Cure Poison that clattered to the floor. She managed a healing one that Sura had to help her drink before her arms could move without agony. Sura placed her hands on either side of her left shoulder and started making sure the muscles weren't torn, guiding the Healing effects of the potion.

Nala picked up the Cure Poison, toasted Shell, and drank. It was weird, she never considered her magicka stores that impressive, but it felt almost like a returning flood, complete with a faint roar in her ears. "Woah."

"I can help Shell," Sura offered. "Do you think you can manage to wake Heron up? I sort of deepened the sleep he was in—I didn't want him to wake until I had done what I could for his eye."

Nala looked at her sheepishly. "There's a fair chance you know more healing than I do, but I can loan you my magic stores, give you more to work with at one time. Would that do it?"

Looking ashamed, Sura shook her head. "I…my problem is not with my amount of magicka," she confessed, "it's that I can't  _release_ more than a trickle at a time. You could flood me with magic and I would still only be able to dribble it out."

Nala tapped a finger to her mouth. "That's interesting. Have you ever melded before? If you worked with me, maybe I could see why it does that, and you can show me what to do to help Heron. Yes?"

"Can we experiment later and reduce painful inflammation now?" Shell prompted. "I only had one Cure Poison. I tend not to need them."

Nala's cheeks flamed, and she healed the swelling in Shell's shoulders as quickly as she could, making sure they were back to normal before helping Sura over to Heron. "Show me what to do."

Minutes passed before Heron started to stir, giving Nala a chance to see the damage done to his face. A jagged scar passed over his cheek and up to his hairline, cutting through his eyebrow. His eyelid had a strange pattern over it, as if it had been shredded and glued back together. When his eyes opened, the dark brown iris was clouded to beige; though the pupil was still black, it was no longer a perfect circle and remained exactly the same size. Sura wasn't even able to look at him. Nala shook her head at her. That was not what Heron needed from her right now.

"Hey handsome, ready to bust outta this joint?" Nala asked.

He frowned quizzically, one hand reaching up and rubbing around his eye, then he looked at his fingers.

"Yeah, yeah, you're a proper Nord now. Congratulations."

"Everything's blurry on this side," he said, moving his hand in front of his face.

"I'm sorry," Sura apologized miserably, looking near-tears. "I had to piece it back together a little at a time, and I couldn't get to it right away, and—"

"You  _pieced my eye back together?"_  Heron demanded incredulously, eyes widening as he sat up and immediately swayed.

"Um, yes," she replied, automatically reaching out to steady him. "I watched Talon do it with my ankle, and thought it was worth a try."

Nala chuckled. "And you have no idea how impressive that is, do you?"

"But…but I couldn't…"

"You did it at all," he said, pulling her against his side. "Relax, Sura. You did more than literally anyone else could have, and I'm willing to bet you barely used Restoration."

"Well, no, I mostly used Alteration to fit everything back together, and it was sort of slashed open, so I had to move all the liquid back in, and I used Destruction to burn out the infection, though I did need to shield your actual flesh from that…why are you laughing like that?"

Heron could only shake his head.

"Talon's going to love having you as a student. Now, who's ready to bust outta this joint? I have it on good authority Talon's already cutting a silent swathe through the ranks to get here." Nala shook her head.

"As long as he leaves some for me," Shell groused, rolling her shoulders and downing another Healing potion. Shaking a bit to loosen her muscles, she moved to the desk, taking the strange key to the rather large safe underneath it, then muttering dire consequences for Demeus as she examined the weapons he'd taken off her for any sign of ill treatment.

"What's your other theory?" Sura asked hesitantly.

"On what?" Shell asked, disappearing the stack of weapons swiftly.

"Why Demeus is dead set on getting himself killed?" Nala offered.

"They took Demeus, too?" Heron asked, confused.

"Demeus was magically made our age again to be planted in our group," Sura told him, not bothering to hide her hurt. "Looks like they deliberately placed all of us they thought would try to escape into the same new team. Heron…he killed Sparrow."

The boy stopped breathing for a long moment before hiding his face in his hands. "I'm going to kill him," he growled, his voice shaking with a deep fury they'd never heard from him before.

"Pretty sure that's what he's banking on," Nala sighed. "Why else confess to it where you can hear, Sura?"

"I concur," Shell said, striding over to lean against the side of the cell door. "He's going through the motions at this point, probably so Dessnia doesn't take any insubordination out on his siblings, or any teammates that might manage to get out. I'd put ten septims on him having already told the Argonian to swim for it."

"He's also gone out of his way to protect you and me, too." Nala shook her head. "He knows Dessnia's on the list, he knows that place is getting flattened. Why not switch sides and save some grief?"

Heron's head thumped against the wall. "His mother. Dessnia must have let him go get his revenge, especially if she already has his siblings. He didn't hide that he wasn't caring if he made it passed that point."

Pulling her hair with both hands, Nala ground her teeth. "That's it. No teenagers for me. Someone else can raise them when they get to this age. You bunch are giving me heartburn, and I  _didn't even give birth to you._ "

"Dessnia demands undying devotion," Heron said flatly, not looking at any of them. "When she finally gives you whatever favor it is you most want, it's because you've convinced her that you're completely in love with her, completely loyal. By that point, most of them have convinced themselves that they actually are. It's easier that way."

"Dessnia can go straight to Coldharbour, if she's lucky. I don't think Rommy'll be that generous, do you?" Nala shook her head. "And Onda thinks he's managed to unwind himself at least somewhat from her wiles. How does that figure into this mess?"

"Have you ever seen a jealous, petty woman with no checks on her power over the people she's angry at work out her aggression?" Heron asked, closing his eyes. "She doesn't stop at you, she goes for everything you even smiled at. She'd dismantled entire teams, gone after family members…Sometimes I think the only reason she's allowed to keep Young Ones is so that she restricts her antics to them, because the other Thalmor are terrified of her. I've watched them dance around her like a mad dog."

"So, yes. The woman needs deading yesterday." Nala rubbed her eyes. This was all just a little too much. "I need a hug."

"Always willing to embrace beautiful women," Heron said with forced gallantry, holding up the arm not around Sura invitingly. "Just, you know, tell Talon I kept it platonic."

"Sounds good, especially since I wanted to comfort you anyways." Nala made grabby hands at Shell. "Come, join the hug."

"I'm going to go back to glaring at the door trying to figure out how to take care of that bar across the other side," Shell said with a sideways grin.

"That's easy," Nala said. "Without the brace, the bar falls." Nala studied the wall to either side. "These studs here and…those there." As she identified them, Nala called a blue flame to her hand, and let it sizzle through the metal studs. One muffled whump later, she could shove the door open partways. "And then remove fallen bar."

"Remind me to compliment Talon on his choice in women later," Shell said, examining this. "That was deceptively simple and you are teaching me that spell. I bet it distance kills better than any arrow."

"Took out a bandit camp to rescue hostages with it." Nala thought a moment. "Sura, the way the spell works, I think you could cast it, too."

"Teach later, escape now," Shell reminded them all pointedly. "Heron, you able to walk yet? Sura managed to completely lame herself again and needs a carl."

Taking stock of himself, he nodded, standing slowly. "I seem to be alright. Eye is throwing me off a bit, though."

"Pretend it's just blood dripping in it and move on. You must have dealt with that before?" At his nod, she turned back to the door, drawing her longer daggers. "Well. Let's see what's out there and find Murril, shall we?"

"Let's shall!"


	40. The Conscience of the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eighteen Elder Councilors sat around the Council Table, glancing occasionally at the empty seats and wondering amongst themselves what was so important they had been first asked to delay their spring sabbatical, then hastily summoned to session.

"Care to wager what is keeping our esteemed colleague?" Alexia growled low in Lady Salonia's ear. Deft fanwork hid most of her face, making it look like nothing more than idle chat. Though truthfully, nobody would be surprised at the thunderclouds on Lady Vicci's face even during the most innocuous conversation.

"No doubt we'll find out when Lord Hubro rakes him across the coals for leaving us all waiting. It should at least prove entertaining," Salonia smirked. Alexia relaxed back into her seat at that, her low chuckle sounding surprisingly like a hag's cackle. Salonia shivered lightly at the thought. The woman was dangerous enough as she was.

The doors opened for the final Councilor, a pale man that looked rather irritated to be out and about that time of day, throwing the hood of his cloak back and regarding them all with glowing orange eyes. "This had better be spectacular," he told them all crisply, burn marks along his knuckles and cheeks healing as they watched.

"Oh, this should be very entertaining," Salonia muttered lowly to Alexia.

"Why?"

"Let's say, Hubro may have met his match." Salonia sat up attentively. "The Count of Skingrad never leaves his home. I do wonder what has compelled him to join this little faux court Hubro is throwing."

"Power play?" Lady Alexia offered, only for Salonia to snort indelicately.

"Count Hassildor could have had the High Chancellor seat any time he wished long before Hubro drew breath. No, he is happy as Count of Skingrad and remains there only because he chooses to do so. It begs the question, given his lack of concern over the rest of Cyrodiil, what has drawn him hither."

Alexia hummed in her throat, considering the lately arrived Count. "So Hubro managed to draw him out, or did he already have some idea, and wanted a front row seat for this little performance?"

"A good question I wished I knew the answer to." Salonia fanned herself, searching for some clue in the entirely too self-possessed Count.

Eirik himself chose that moment to appear from the inner door, side-by-side with Mede himself. The Emperor was looking older with every month since his nephew and only heir's accident. Now, he trudged tiredly to his seat and settled himself without looking, reading through a pile of ancient-looking papers with a perplexed frown on his face.

"And the plot thickens." Alexia muttered to Salonia.

It was her turn to hum in agreement. "I begin to think we should have brought refreshments." As if summoned, Dum planted himself next to Lady Salonia and offered her one of his hard candies. At Lady Salonia's completely unscripted reaction, Alexia broke into loud laughter. Her hard-eyed glare dared anyone to chastise her high humor.

"I don't know about 'spectacular,' Count Skingrad," Eirik said with a polite smile, "but knowing you'd be in the area I could hardly leave you out of such a historic occasion."

Hassildor raised an eyebrow, walking around the table as the guards hastily shuttered the windows. They would have had to anyway, for a private Council, they simply hadn't gotten around to it yet. The rather disconcerting effect of the beams of light extinguishing inches before the Count's feet wasn't lost on anyone. "While I can appreciate the sentiment, High Chancellor, the College of Whispers is once again spouting off against 'monsters' and needs a level head at their debates." He cast a glance at the representative from that magical body, who quailed slightly.

"You're needed here, Janus," Mede said, looking up from the paperwork and laying it on the table before him. "Is this really Martin Septim's signature?"

The Councilors' muttering quieted at that, everyone stilling and watching as the vampire Count walked over to lean over the Emperor, eyes roving the document as his grey brows wrinkled his forehead in a non-human manner. "It is," he confirmed. "I had no idea of any of this, but yes, that looks like what I recall of Martin's handwriting. I still have a few of his and Romulus's letters I can bring to compare."

Mede rubbed his forehead with thin fingers. "Hubro, why don't you tell the Councilors what they're here for?"

Eirik nodded, taking his seat next to the Emperor while various other Councilors scattered to theirs, Council now officially in session. "What the Emperor has, and what Count Hassildor has just authenticated, are documents dating from the end of the Septim Empire," he revealed, holding up a hand to forestall the mutterings and questions. "As you are all aware, the Mede family gained control of the Empire simply by bringing control, stopping a war among the Councilors at the time when the last Septim heir died. What these documents revealed was that Martin had named an Heir, he simply gave his life for the world before he was able to announce it."

Councilors exchanged glances, some of them already hiding sullen expressions, though those who had been pushing hardest to get their relatives on the throne had conveniently not been nearby for this session.

"I did wonder how he was going to introduce this matter. The documents actually exist. How…helpful."

"Quiet!" Alexia hissed.

"Control yourself, dear Alexia. It would look more suspicious if we did not talk about these new findings." Salonia sat back in her chair, a satisfied smile as she finally accepted one of Dum's candies, and daintily nibbled on it while the rest of Hubro's gambit played out. Dum, being Dum, reached across Salonia to offer Alexia one. She accepted and sucked on it with a sour face.

"What good does that do us now?" Darrick Camay asked curiously, his blind eyes nonetheless seeming to pin the High Chancellor. "This is not the Septim Empire, it is the Mede Empire, and any heir named in those documents is long dead."

Surprisingly enough, it was Mede himself who answered that, "Was it not you Moth Priests that told me much of our current strife was from the lack of a divinely ordained ruler?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at the Redguard. "It has been months since my nephew's accident, and we are no closer to reaching a decision. My closest kin, my cousin Victoria, wants nothing to do with the throne."

If anything, Alexia's expression soured more.

"I hear no argument for the 'long dead' part of my query," Darrick pointed out archly.

"I suppose you all remember that notice we were sent of the man in Skyrim claiming to be an Amulius?" Eirik asked, looking around the table.

"Drunken sailors' tales," scoffed someone.

"That's what I thought as well," Eirik nodded. "Thankfully, Councilor Motierre decided to investigate his claims, and myself and a few of the Councilors stuck here in the city did some research," he nodded to Salonia and Alexia in acknowledgement.

Amaund blinked at the admission, flushing, then paling and not knowing quite what to make of the High Chancellor's words.

While Alexia's nod was somewhat jerky, Salonia's acknowledgement was graceful. She wasn't ready to completely drop her plans if the High Chancellor cut them out. This could easily be setting them up to take a fall, if somehow acquiring the heirs went amiss. She'd wait, though, to see exactly what his play was.

"If this research of yours was left by the last Empire, why wasn't it found during the Interregnum?" the Count of Cheydinhal asked, red eyes narrowed at Eirik.

"You tell me, Count Indarys," Eirik replied with a bit of a chuckle. "The records specifically mentioned you being threatened with bodily harm by a small woman if you so much as mentioned it."

Indarys looked confused for a moment, then the Dunmer's face cleared in realization, "Romulus's son," he breathed. "Martin named him Heir?"

"The Champion of Cyrodiil?" the Grand Master of the Textiles Guild asked in plain confusion. "But he wasn't even a nobleman. Don't tell me those rumors…"

Looking aggravated, the Count of Cheydinhal shook his head. "The boy was already a toddler when the Oblivion Crisis started, on that you can rest easy. Martin and Rommy were best friends, and Felicia…" he rubbed the back of his neck in remembered discomfort, "Let's just say she wasn't the type to entertain even the idea."

"I don't see how that fulfills the 'divinely ordained' part of our protest," Derrick said tiredly.

"Turns out," Eirik said, shuffling papers, "Martin wasn't the only Septim bastard around. The notes we recovered from a hidden room in Cloud Haven Temple were quite clear that Felicia Amulius was not only a Septim, but out of Tiber Septim himself. Both she and her son wore the Amulet of Kings before witnesses." He grinned as the room erupted into shouts of incredulity, denial, and plain surprise.

"Could it truly be? Hubro, what are you about?" Salonia's eyes narrowed.

"With Hassildor about, it best be true. That one has absolutely no trouble calling even the Emperor a liar to his face if he'd proof," Alexia grumbled.

Dum was beyond words, looking as if hit with a thick board, candy drool gathering on his tunic. Salonia sniffed and fluttered her fan in thought. "So we truly have the rightful heirs to the throne. How delightful."

"If she was Tiber Septim's daughter, how was she alive by the Oblivion Crisis?" Derrick asked skeptically as the initial outburst died down.

"She was Dunmer," Indarys answered before the High Chancellor could even open his mouth. "Half-Dunmer, I suppose, though I never would have guessed. Their son looked Dunmer, too, though it's rather hard to tell with children. If I had to guess," he glanced at Mede thoughtfully, "his non-human appearance aided him being shuffled to the side."

Mede shook his head, "I cannot tell you what was in the minds of my ancestors," he said sadly.

Hassildor snorted, crossing his arms. "You weren't around much, running around doing Worthy Deeds and all, but the Interregnum was a chaotic and savage time. Personally, I'm glad a small child wasn't in the middle of it. He wouldn't have lasted long enough to take the throne."

"Does this mean we're bringing in this Nord man?" the representative from the Synod called out, her voice nasally and unpleasant. "Do we really want to bring in a man that probably fought against the Empire to rule it?"

"Lady Salonia, would you like to give your news?" the High Chancellor inquired.

"If it pleases you, I shall." Salonia raised an eyebrow at the High Chancellor, awaiting the slight nod to continue. "As it turns out, the man had children while interned in prison. We have liberated these poor children and brought them to Cyrodiil."

"You  _kidnapped_ them?" Indarys yelped at the same time someone else wailed "He was in  _prison?"_

"Did we liberate the children from prison or was the man liberated from prison and you took his children?" the Synod woman called, confused.

"Why else use the word 'liberate?'" Alexia snapped, giving the Synod woman a glare. Salonia gave a gracious nod to Alexia. "The children are here, in our care, so they can learn something about the Empire they'll inherent, and learn its peoples. Do you truly find fault with that?" she gave her a vicious glare. "It's clear the father has no care for the Empire. He's there in that rebellious province playing cozy with that traitor Ulfric. You're welcome to go get him if you want him."

The mage blinked. "Er…that's alright. Nords don't seem to like mages very much." She glanced at Hubro—both Nord and Imperial Battlemage—and flushed when he raised his eyebrows.

The Moth Priest groaned and pressed his palms against his eyes like they ached. "You already brought them here? Well, let's get this disaster moving. Where are they now?"

Eirik nodded to a guard, watching as the man hurried to the side door, where a small waiting room—a well-furnished closet, really—housed those who had business with the Council. He opened the door to show Blossom and Orien, in new outfits the High Chancellor had hastily fitted to them. Blossom stood slightly in front of her brother, and when the guard reached for them, set his glove on fire. He yelped and jumped back.

Indarys stopped gaping with the rest of the Councilors and laughed helplessly, pressing a hand to his mouth. "I can see the resemblance," was all he said.

"My da is going to  _rip you all to shreds!"_  she hollered at them, throwing her hand down and making her skirts sway. She did it again in frustration at the things.

"Oh, my," the Synod woman said, looking alarmed.

"The girl has my vote for Heir," Hassildor said genially, leaning back in his chair, smirking.

Orien raised his hand hesitantly, "Um, excuse me, but I don't want to rule? I'm just learning to read." He blinked uncertainty as faint laughter came from the Councilors.

Mede was regarding them thoughtfully, his face quiet. "How old are you?" he asked Orien, since he was at least making an effort to be polite.

"We're five," he said worriedly.

"But we're fierce!" Blossom cut in.

"And how did you get here, exactly?" Mede asked, cutting through the laughter again.

"A ghost-elf knocked all the other kids and our sister out and when we woke up a pretty lady was telling us to behave or something bad would happen to our friend Murril and we don't know where she is now," he said, tears making his eyes extra shiney. "I want to go home. I don't wanna be a king or anything, I just wanna go home." Blossom's lip wobbled and she turned to hug him, glaring back over her shoulder at the Councilors for making her brother cry.

Sighing, Mede glanced around his Councilors, expression grave. "No matter the vote put forth today, I am enacting my power as Emperor to postpone any decision. This is an Empire of Law, Ladies and Gentlemen. Until we have at least reached out to their parents, this is a gross violation of the trust our citizens place in us." His sharp, disapproving gaze cut to Eirik, "Whose idea was this?"

Amaund ground his teeth, then stood before one of the others could sell him out, determined to mitigate the damage. Foolish old man. What did it matter how the children got there if it stopped another war? "I—" he got no further as a strange cry shook the very Tower, making him gasp and freezing the blood in his veins with instinctive dread.

"What was that?" a guard asked quietly into the sudden hush of the room.

Blossom started laughing. "Told you," she said smugly, "You're all in trouble now." Amaund really didn't like that child.

"Your Excellency!" Commander Maro called, rushing into the room and glancing over the Council. "There's a dragon over the city! We need to get you to safety."

"A dragon?" the man breathed, expression one of honest surprise.

"It's Odahviing," Orien told them helpfully. "He's dra-ma-tic."

"Don't help them!" Blossom scolded.

"But I thought it was the potty mouth lady we didn't like," he replied in a loud whisper.

"We don't like any of them!" she hissed back. "Except the old man with sweet things. He's alright."

"They might shoot Odahviing!" Orien protested. "I don't want them to shoot Odahviing!"

"Ooooh, you're right," Blossom schooled the alarm off her face and turned back to the Council. "Shoot Odahviing and I will stab each and every one of you," she informed them with an imperious wave of her hand.

"I want to see this dragon," Mede said after a moment, his attention still on the twins. "Commander Maro, make yourself useful and bring those two, won't you? Eirik, I believe you should accompany me." The old man rose to his feet, giving the Penitus Oculatus commander a stern look when he went to protest.

"Any of you following?" Derrick inquired. "I'm going, but the maids keep moving the furniture between here and there."

"I'll lead you," Orien said, ducking under Maro as Blossom protested. "Sis, he's blind!"

"You're too nice," Blossom pursed her lips, but nevertheless joined her brother as Orien took the Moth Priest's hand, carefully steering him around the chair, much to the man's surprise. Penitus members surrounded them, hurrying them forward to join in the protective circle with the Emperor and High Chancellor. The entire group emerged into a panicking city, people running and screaming as a red winged beast wheeled overhead. Sunlight flashed off crimson scales, winking back at the glittering windows of the Tower as Odahviing circled it. Seeing the group, he settled onto the wall around the inner district, roaring gleefully at those below him.

"Hello," a rather resonant voice called from the dragon's back, conversational tone doing nothing to hide the underlying anger. "I'm Tyrlief Amulius, the man you all keep trying to kill. Would the cowardly idiots that took my children care to hand them back over before I have to go looking for them?"

"Da!" Orien cried, running out and jumping up and down as the Penitus nearest him tried to figure out what he was supposed to do about it. He very unwisely settled for picking up the boy and backing into the huddle.

" _ **PUT HIM DOWN,"**_ Tyr thundered, frowning. The pebbles on the cobbles beneath them jumped and shivered over the road, and the Tower rang slightly as it resonated.

The guard made a strange squeak and froze, staring up at the man as a sudden gust of wind whipped his hair, a storm forming overhead even as they watched, twisting the clouds in the sky into a single dark storm crowning Tyr's head, forks of lightning streaking down to caress the tops of buildings nearby.

Tyr glanced up and smiled slightly, "Aaaand that would be Rommy," he said softly.

Lightning struck between the dragon and the Council, making everyone stagger back, shielding their eyes. Stone ripped itself from the road, piling into a vaguely familiar arch before flashing white. A figure in Blade's armor strode out, followed quickly by a violet-eyed Khajiit, red hair still a tumbling mass of curls down her back, whipping in the wind with her skirts. Not exactly how Telki was expecting to go into battle with the Council, but they'd been in a hurry.

Rommy looked around a moment, taking in the city, the Councilors, the crumbling Oblivion Gate behind them that was rapidly settling itself back into stone, and tsked. "Leave town for a couple of centuries and not a thing has changed. Well, there's a bit less rubble. Still a bunch of politicians with bad ideas, though."

"By the Eight," someone muttered.

" _Romulus?"_ Hassildor managed incredulously, not seeming to even notice as a break in the storm sent a patch of sunlight skittering over him.

"Oh, hello, Hassildor. Please tell me you weren't involved in kidnapping my grandchildren," Rommy said, giving the vampire an arch look and swinging the Wabbajack around idly.

Salonia sucked in a deep breath, catching sight of the obviously powerful man, if he could control an Oblivion Gate. She hadn't expect to recognize the man's face. She'd seen it every day in Bruma…on a statue to the Hero of the Crisis. "Our plans are well and truly for naught." She flicked her fan open, fluttering furiously. "How do you feel about retiring to the countryside, Lady Alexia?"

Lady Alexia narrowed her eyes. "Like it might be too little to late."

One of the Penitus yelped and hopped sideways, grabbing his leg. Blossom shoved him over while he was off-balance, the dagger that had formerly been hidden in his boot in one hand, Orien's hand in the other as she pulled him through, racing up to Telki and barreling into her. Blossom, of course, turned right around to face the Council, dagger brandished as if daring them to come get them. Telki quickly scooped them both up in a hug.

"Is that…is it really you, Rommy?" Indarys asked, eyes wide as he stepped forward.

Rommy blinked, then grinned slightly. "Farwil! You've gotten old."

"You haven't, and that worries me," the Dunmer replied honestly, looking a bit suspicious. "You come out of an Oblivion Gate claiming to be the Hero, but your eyes are different, and there's no way he could be alive."

Giving him a droll look, he asked, "Ever get rid of that scar on your ass from Felicia not liking your flirting?"

A mulberry blush bloomed on the Dunmer Count's cheekbones. "But I never told…Divines preserve us."

"Did she stab him?" Blossom asked with interest.

Glancing down at her with a fond smile, Rommy said, "There is a reason I keep saying you remind me of your grandmother."

"Are you two alright?" Telki hugged her babies tightly. Yes, yes, she had to share with Tyr and Fey, but they were still hers, too, and she'd even  _fus_  Fey if she disagreed.

"They want to make me king," Orien told her, little face creased with anxiety. "Except the guy with sunburn. He wants to make Blossom king."

"Well, that's not happening now, is it? We're all here, and we'll make them behave, or I'll feed them all to Odahviing. Okay?" Right now, it would be entirely too easy to convince Rommy to turn the lot of them into easily digestible lambchops for Odah.

If anything, he looked more doubtful. "Couldn't we just tell them no dessert?"

Telki squeezed the little boy close. "You're probably right. Some of these are so disagreeable, they might give Odah a tummy ache." She narrowed her gaze at the lot of them. "But you're all going to behave yourselves, aren't you."

"They'd better," Tyr said, then Shouted to become ethereal long enough to leap down from Odahviing, coming to join them as the Shout wore off. The Councilors muttered in alarm, and he eyed them with displeasure. Blossom glanced back at the Councilors and decided they looked suitably intimidated that she could probably get away with the cuddle she desperately wanted, and reached for him. If anything, he looked a bit more intimidating, holding the little girl that threatened to stab them all like she thought he could solve all of it.

"So, here you have it. Tyrlief Amulius, who would have been very happy just tootling around Windhelm. For some Aedra-forsaken reason, assassins and kidnappers from Cyrodiil kept popping up. Now he's here, and rightfully angry with the lot of you. How are you going to fix it?" Telki rattled off in front of the combined Council and Emperor.

"Let me pass," Mede said firmly to his guards, who actually looked like they might be considering disobeying for once, but stepped aside reluctantly. Striding forward with the dignity of years, Mede stopped paces from them, examining Tyr minutely. The Nord didn't flinch away or glare, just returned the gaze steadily. At length, Mede nodded, as if he'd come to a decision. Glancing at Rommy, he gave a slight bow. "Champion, please allow me to thank you for saving the world all those years ago."

Rommy shifted a bit uncomfortably, "Martin saved the world, I just distracted Dagon."

Telki nudged Rommy in the ribs, hard. "What'd I tell you? Don't make me tell you in front of all these people, again. Accept the thanks you're due."

"Telki Dragonborn?" Mede said, looking her up and down and then giving her an identical bow, "Thank you for saving the world more recently, from the dragons so many thought mere legend."

Telki hung a little closer to Rommy's arm, not nearly so blasé when it was her turn. "Oh, you're very welcome. Since I kinda live here too, it was in my own best interests, y'know. Um, I am also revoking right here and now any shenanigans to make me any sort of royalty or nobility or any other responsibility here in Cyrodiil. Thank you, but no."

The corners of the Emperor's mouth twitched. "I suppose that's as good a reason for saving the world as any," he conceded. "We all live in this world, and must strive toward the betterment of it. Sometimes, the best way to do so is not always easy, and is not what we would do if there was another way." Turning back to Tyr, he said, "Tyrlief Amulius, if I might have a word in private?"

Narrowing his eyes at the older man in combined puzzlement and faint suspicion, Tyr nodded, whispering something to Blossom and handing her to Telki. "You all stay there," he called to the Council. "If nothing else, you can start making apologies to my wife."

Commander Maro cursed and whirled as their retreat back into the Tower was closed off with an oddly loud bang, pushed by an Altmer woman that examined them all with an expression very like her daughter's. Indarys actually gulped.

"That would be the wife he mentioned." Telki's grin was not very pleasant at the moment. She jostled the twins, one in each arm. "Want to watch Mommy show you how to embarrass combat trained men in no time flat?"

"Oooh," Blossom enthused, wiggling to see the Council better. Rommy smirked and summoned her a sweetroll.

"Amaund Motierre," she called, eyes glittering in a way that made the rest of the Councilors step away from the unfortunate Breton, "I have it on good authority that kidnapping my children was at least in part your idea," she said, striding toward him. The Penitus shifted uncertainty, unsure what to make of her. She was wearing armor but walking like a lady, her steps smooth and even, gliding her across the cobbles without bouncing her at all. She circled them, examining all of them. Seconds passed without her saying another word, and Amaund started to sweat.

"W-what do you want?" he finally got out, mouth dry. "Are you going to kill me?"

Fey smiled like a cat that just cornered a mouse. "I'm not in the habit of murdering people in front of my children. However, you sent assassins after me, kidnappers after my children. You caused them pain and my husband and I several sleepless nights. You owe me a very public apology." She finally stopped, staring down at the man from the advantage of height her High Elf blood gave her. "Step down from the Council, take your fading fortune and aging name and retire from politics, in perpetuity. If you do this, I still will not forgive you, but you may fade from my mind, given time. If you don't, well," her eyes flashed as a spear of lightning raced overhead, "my children aren't always nearby."

Breathing raggedly, Amaund nodded, stumbling away from her as if she were a daedra.

Fey's gaze raked over the rest of the assembled Councilors before she turned her back on them, joining Rommy, Telki, and her children under Odahviing's watchful, faintly disappointed gaze.

"I wanted you to stab him," Blossom pouted.

" _Bellani,_ sometimes words are more effective than blades," Fey told her daughter, gently lifting her from Telki's arms, some of the tension that she'd carried easing as she held her baby.

"And it would have given Orien nightmares, would you want to do that?" Telki pouted on top of Orien's head, cuddling him close. It was a face she'd used to make Blossom giggle before.

"I suppose not," the girl groused, still a little put out until she remembered that Shouts were technically words, too.

"Dare I ask where you've been, Romulus?" Hassildor had braved Odahviing's teeth to wander over, looking them up and down.

"Oh, you know. Took a sabbatical from sanity, wound up in Oblivion when I saw another Gate standing around on a little island, got drafted to do some heroics, lost track of time, whoops, Fourth Era," Rommy shrugged.

"So you've been trapped in Oblivion all this time?" the vampire asked, fascinated.

"Er…more or less. I can't leave there for any good length of time anymore," he sighed.

"Dare I ask about…" he waved his hand at the place the Gate had stood.

"Oh," Rommy glanced back, then grinned boyishly. "Nostalgia. And, you know, making an entrance."

Telki had been studying Hassildor. "You remind me of Serana."

Janus blinked his burnt umber eyes at her, "Should I know this person?"

Telki flushed under her fur. She had no idea what it was about his aura that was familiar, until the 'good vampire' connection finally kicked in, and she remembered where she'd seen that combination. Considering Serana had been napping in a stone box Hassildor's entire existence, it was safe to say he had no idea what she was talking about. "Probably not, but it's a good thing you remind me of her." Telki smiled. "Hi, Telki Tailkinker." She held out the hand not currently occupied with moppet.

"Janus Hassildor, Count of Skingrad," he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

"Awww, you're a charmer!" Telki beamed. "Don't get too charming," she tilted her head at Rommy, "Someone tends to get tetchy."

The count laughed. "Romulus! You have a type!"

"I have a sword," he pointed out irritably.

"Indarys!" the Count called, "Romulus has a wife again!"

"Really?" the Dunmer asked, losing a bit of his nervousness and coming over. "You always struck me as a one-woman man," he said, still smiling as he looked over Rommy and Telki.

"Well, I figured two hundred years and even Felicia would kick my butt for being miserable," Rommy said, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling decidedly awkward to be talking to people who knew him as he was.

"And I still had a time talking him into it," Telki teased, "But totally worth it."

"Wait," the Dunmer frowned like he was trying to recall something. "Doesn't the Dragonborn have several husbands?"

"Three and a fiance is not several," Telki sniffed. Indarys just stared at her blankly as if he'd expected her to deny it, then turned his gaze to Rommy questioningly.

Rommy snickered. "I can't be around all the time. It's comforting knowing she won't get lonely."

The sound of someone clearing their throat broke through the hum of conversation. Mede and Tyr had returned, neither looking completely happy but having a faint air of resignation about them. "Elder Council, I would like to call for a vote. I have made the decision to name Tyrlief Amulius as my Heir, from this day forward, to be passed to his descendants after him."

There was a long moment as the Councilors processed this. Finally, Eirik's hand rose into the air. "I second the motion," he said. "All for?"

Indarys shrugged and raised his hand as Hassildor's lifted with no hesitation. One by one, the rest of the Council voted aye, though Odahviing shifting his weight ostentatiously might have hastened the assent.

"Please, please please please, can I turn this into a song?" Telki bounced on her toes. She gave both Rommy and Tyr her best kitty please look. "Might as well have a decent one to combat all the others that'll be written by aspiring bards in the city."

Tyr winced and nodded. Fey inclined her head and leaned down to say softly, "I would take it as a personal favor if you wrote several songs about my husband. The people here don't know him. Make them love him."

"Rommy, I need a desk, paper, quills and ink, and some quiet time with my lute. How soon can that be in my near future?"

"I don't have a lute, but you can use my office," Indarys offered. Telki gave him a thankful smile.

"Meanwhile," Rommy said, sobering, "there is still the matter of our missing children." Looking up to Fey, he asked, "Any progress?"

She shook her head, looking slightly grim.

"Nothing from Murril yet?" Telki was brought back to the here and now, the nascent gleam of creativity traded for the worry over her missing younglings.

Rommy shook his head, looking frustrated. "She might be in a temple of some sort, though, that's the kind of muffling effect I'm getting."

"Erandur, maybe?" Telki grimaced. "Or are you talking the not so nice kinds of temples?"

"Whatever it is, it's specifically against Daedric energy," he said, looking frustrated. "It's not exactly a blessing, but it does invoke the Nine. I mean, Eight. I mean…screw political correctness, I used that man's armor for the 'blood of a god' requirement!"

Telki grinned. "So, anyone seen where the Husbands got off to?" Telki stood up on tiptoes, looking for them, not that the extra inch or so actually helped her. She was still the shortest person present, barring the twins.

"Oh, they should be holding off the guards desperately trying to get through the other doors around here, along with an entire guild of your sister's friends," Fey said with a smile.

"That's my Boys."

"Shall we head inside and sign the inevitable paperwork?" Mede suggested, sounding about as tired of paperwork as it was possible for an Imperial to be.

"I'm still missing a stepdaughter," Tyr informed him, making the man frown and glance at the Councilors.

"I see," he said, much of the energy leaving him.

Telki bounced Orien on her hip. "Hey, know where Shell is?"

"When Demeus turned mean he was talking about getting out of the city," Orien said. "His friends are kinda scary," he added.

Telki groaned, her eyes tracking to Rommy in worry. His gaze was somewhere far from here, a pinch between the brows that usually meant his eyes were about to glow, and he was yea far from a tempest tantrum. "Hey, what's trying to set you off?" Telki budged under his shoulder, reminding him she was there.

Rommy gasped suddenly, his form ripping apart into butterflies that raced up into the sky, joining the stilling storm and whipping it back into a frenzy. Wind rose and howled around them suddenly, sleet and hail raining down. Fey snapped up a plum ward around them, gaping upward. The Councilors raced for the Tower and shelter, and the storm grew, the clouds taking a greenish tinge, the lightning racing across the sky but never touching down.

" _Oooooooh!_ _ **Ro Mul Laas!"**_  Telki stomped, ready to pull her own hair out in frustration. "Odahviing! Follow that hurricane!" He wasn't about to leave her behind this time.

"Gladly, Thuri!" Odahviing agreed, landing beside her and shaking the ground.

Indarys gaped at them as Telki climbed onto the dragon. "It talks!"

Telki gave him a pitying look. "Of course. He's a person, too, y'know."

" _Joor,_ I will show you the error of your ways later," Odahviing promised, then launched himself into the sky as the stationary storm suddenly shot out to harbor.

 


	41. Come Not Between a Dragon and His Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Startled Altmer gasped and jumped away or toward her, usually missing as Murril eeled out of the way, but sometimes getting a grip on her, making her cry and twist and bite until they let go. That the ship wasn't dirty, didn't reek of death and rotting fish and stagnant sea didn't register, just as that the fingers that clutched at her were fleshy and warm didn't register. Shouts and startled oaths rang around her, but she could only hear the moaning of corpses with their souls trapped inside, crumbling limbs reaching for her, bones sometimes clothed in nothing but the white mist of the soul sewed onto them with messy stitches.

The ship in her mind was little more than flotsam, held together with rusting nails that might or might not last long enough to get them to their destination, wherever that may be. The mast was broken halfway down its length, cobweb rigging still tangled around moving Things not smart enough to cut their way out, but still reaching. Reaching for the one living thing left on the ship.

That one used to bark orders at the sailors. Eleilwe used to steal his big hat and march around in his coat, barking impossible tasks at the seagulls. That one used to spend his days leaning over the railing, losing whatever he'd managed to eat. That one had come riding in one day, warning them that they had been discovered. What they had done wrong, Murril had never understood. When Eleilwe and she argued they had to work it out, but they were always allowed to have different opinions. The green fire that ate the home that was all she'd ever known had finally set the lesson of why disagreements needed to be talked out.

She couldn't find her cupboard. She could hide in the cupboard, They couldn't open things. Eleilwe had left her there to try to find some food before Eleilwe had disappeared. A Thing that looked a bit like her had shambled around with the rest of them. Murril would watch from the keyhole of the Room With the Cupboard as it and the one that wore their mother's flowered dress shuffled by each other as if they weren't there.

Sunlight hurt her eyes as she found her way to the deck. She shouldn't be on the deck, the Worm Things were on the deck. Darting behind some barrels, she looked out over what had been an endless expanse of water and now held something solid and brown and white. That was wrong, and it scared her more than the water had.

"What are you doing here?" someone asked, and hands were reaching for her again.

Murril rolled, not screaming because screaming brought Them, but this one could talk to call others and there had been a woman. A dark woman in armor with a sword that had grabbed her right before the Things could when she finally ran out of water and had to get more. The sword had cut through the Things that used to be people and then the woman had opened a Hole. Murril could still see the Holes, all the little rips between Here and There, but they were even more frightening than the doors people opened and shut on new places, because the doors always went to the same place and these didn't. The dark woman had taken her through one, to a place of pretty crystal, cold and radial, with a Big Cold Man that had said she'd do, then on to a wonderful place filled with mushrooms and other children and a figure that meant Safety, and Sweet Things, and Warmth. He'd been sad at first, but as time passed he would always seem happy to see her, and the Big Cold Man had once visited to tell her she was doing a Good Job. He'd let her hide from the Bad Things in his pocket and didn't mind that she was shy or that sometimes the colors were too  _bright_  and the sounds were too  _loud,_ and everything could just be  _Too MUCH_ …

All her limbs froze and she tumbled to the ground, looking up as a man strode over and her eyes widened as they were forced to see. He was one of the ones that attacked them, that had left Mommy crying over missing someone since she was too little to remember, had made them get on the ship in the dead of night. The Worm Things were gone but he was there, coming to get her, and he looked so angry.

Her mind twisted the same way it had when the ship caught on fire and he jumped back, looking astonished, and she thrashed the magic off, the funny twisted magic that she'd learned from Home turning it into something new that floated off in a static ball and made them all duck. That would be funny later. Now the sky was twisting and something was roaring and all the Bad Elves were looking uncertain. A Human tried to catch her and her head hurt as something twisted again, making him trip. Murril ran over his back and climbed some knobby wood bits to the pointed bow, turning to see several of the Bad Elves talking, regarding her warily, muttering something about "developing early" and "out of control."

She pressed her eyes shut as hard as they would go, not understanding where the Things had gone but wishing they hadn't been replaced with the Bad Elves. She wanted to go Home. Flashes of light and muddled thought raced through her shattered mind, stirring something that had long been scared away.

" _Shhh, keep quiet,"_ Eleilwe had said, her face dirty and scared, " _If you keep quiet they can't hear you. Keep quiet, baby, just keep quiet."_

The Angry Bad Elf finally made a decision, stepping forward and Murril screamed in every way she knew how, through the air around her and into all the Holes, light and lightning and frost warping to chaos everything around her.

" _ **DADDYYYYY!"**_

.

* * *

.

"Yep, that's Talon's work," Shell observed, tilting her head a bit at the neat row of bodies in the hallway. "Not a clue what hit them."

"Alright, I'm scared of him again," Heron said bluntly, staring.

Nala looked between the bodies and Heron. "Tell me you couldn't get that scary if someone threatened Sura."

His eyebrows raised before the action made him wince. "Nala, there is not a mark on them. I leave marks. Typically, pretty big marks, since I was mainly taught with two handers."

"There's magic," Sura pointed out doubtfully.

"Well, yeah, but I mostly heal. I'm not all that great at Destruction," he confessed, following Shell as she walked over the bodies.

"Different methods, sames results," Nala muttered. "Dead is dead."

"Noiseless, markless death is much scarier than plainly-see-how-they-died death," the Nord boy pointed out. "No wonder he's the one they would send against rogue Justiciars."

Nala snorted. "He was their first choice for anything difficult. Deny it."

"I'm not," Heron replied, but Shell hummed thoughtfully.

"Depended on the assignment. My uncle also did that sort of thing, as did I once in a while. Talon's the one they would send if they didn't want anyone to know what had happened. Ilmiyon would petrify everyone for a few weeks first, and I…well," she stopped, obviously recalling something that troubled her. "At least I was only sent against the Thalmor themselves, not their friends or families."

"Did you really pin a man to the wall?" Heron asked curiously.

"Faloniril wanted to make sure the entire town saw him, so yeah," she said, peering around a corner. "I put him against the highest building in town, right where the sun first hit. Do we have to talk about this?"

"Telki's habit of talking too much must be infectious," said a familiar voice behind them.

"Talon!" Nala whipped around and dashed into his arms, wrapping her arms around and squeezing him.

He froze, then held her briefly, stepping back after a moment and sliding his hand down her arm to give her hand a brief squeeze. "Everyone still alive is up on deck," he told Shell shortly. "There are too many mages to keep things from becoming a spectacle."

She nodded. "So we wait for them to come down here and take them out a bit at a time," she said.

"There's another problem," he said, allowing his worry to show in his eyes, "Murril is running around up there."

"How long until the weather gets nasty?" Nala shuddered. That brief hug was not enough to calm her nerves, and she promised herself there'd be a long snuggle session later. However, they first had to ensure there'd be a later.

The ship lurched, launching them all against the wall before righting itself.

"I'm guessing not long," Shell said, wincing and holding her shoulder.

Talon narrowed his eyes at her and cast a spell on them before making a disapproving sound, hand hovering over her shoulder. "You rely too much on your resistance," he scolded her, purging the poison while he was at it. "You know healing spells aren't as effective on you."

She rolled her eyes, "Thanks for the reminder, Dad."

If anything, his frown deepened, but all he did was move to the other shoulder.

Heron pursed his lips and looked from one to the other, "You're…not really her father, are you?" At both of their incredulous looks, he flushed and shrugged, "Well, how would I know?"

"Bosmer, how do you mistake Mr. Tallness for a Bosmer?" Nala asked.

"When you've seen as many mixed-raced people as I have, you stop assuming things," he told her wryly. "People used to think our thief was Bosmer and he wasn't even an elf."

"I thought your thief was a girl?" Shell remarked quizzically.

"Pre-your-escape-got-teams-shuffled thief," Sura corrected, then glanced at Heron. "Demeus had me contact her father while you were unconscious. It's Onda.".

Heron's lips made a little "O" and he glanced back at Shell, impressed.

"I'm instituting a 'no talking during training' rule," Talon said, sounding defeated, "You're all getting bad habits."

"And just think, they weren't even around Telki that long." Nala patted Talon's arm sympathetically. A lesser man would have shuddered, but Talon just sighed a bit.

The ship rocked again, startled shouting coming from on-deck. An elf in the standard gold armor came down the stairs at the end of the next hall, only to go down with a small silver knife in his throat. "I'm getting a sneaking suspicion this ship isn't going to last long enough for our original plan," Shell sighed, yanking the dagger back to her with a telekinesis spell. "Oh, magic, how I missed you."

"Um, I'm not a tactician, but can I propose a plan?" Heron asked, eyeing the dead Thalmor.

"I, for one, am all ears." Nala prompted, she wasn't clinging to Talon by sheer force of will. She was huddled as close to his large reassuring presence as his conditioning allowed, but she wasn't clinging, yet.

"Run up, grab Murril, and all jump overboard before the Mad God blows the ship to Oblivion," he shrugged. "I don't know about you, but I get the feeling we don't have all that much time before that happens." As if to underscore that, a flash of ball lightning rolled down the stairs and attacked a lamp. The lamp turned into a lizard, fell to the floor, and broke into pebbles.

"I'll grab her," Nala offered. "I probably stand the best chance, since, Aunt Nala and all that."

"I'll cover you," Talon said. "The rest of you, get overboard. Shell, if you cast a dome ward around you before you hit the water, it will float."

"Really?" she asked, entire face lighting up. "Is there a waterfall on this river?"

"There wouldn't be ships," he pointed out, completely exasperated.

"I know what I'm doing when we get back to Skyrim," she grinned, then glanced at the door as a fresh spate of cursing wafted down. "Well, no time like the present. I'll scout a moment and let you know which way to start running," she said, stepping into the shadow the missing light had created and vanishing.

Nala studied the spot where Shell disappeared, eyes narrowed and considering. "Let me guess: I don't want to know how or why she can do that, do I?"

"She certainly didn't learn it from me," Talon revealed, huffing a little.

Heron and Sura exchanged a look, grinned, and hastily looked after Shell. Whatever they might say, Talon and Shell had more than a few parent-child markers. It seemed Telki wasn't the only one to adopt people.

Just as quickly as she'd vanished, Shell was back, apparently having left her humor up on deck. "Rommy's not here yet," she said flatly. "The chaos magic is because those assholes managed to terrify Murril."

"We need to get her out of there!" Nala huffed. "It's only going to get worse if we don't."

"She's straight ahead on the bow, right over the weird tailed maormer thing," Shell supplied. "There's a group of Thalmor right in front of her, though. The deck is crawling with them." Glancing up at Talon, she asked, "Sure you don't want me to stay and help?"

"Get in the water, we'll follow as soon as we can," Talon said.

"Right," looking at Heron, she ordered, "Stay as close to me as you can. When we get up the stairs, aim to your right."

"Ready?" Talon asked Nala, examining her face for any hint of uncertainty or apprehension.

"Let's go get my niece already." Nala's eyes met his, and there was no fear, just sheer certainty they were getting Murril back.

Smiling slightly in approval, he lead them forward to the stairs. "Count of three," he muttered. "One, two—"

" _ **DADDYYY!"**_

The entire ship rocked and ball lightning sizzled overhead, crashing into the top of the stairway as curls of frost rushed down around their feet, warping the wood. Cries of fear and astonishment filled the air, followed quickly by the sound of frost spells and the crackling of flame.

"Three!" Nala hollered, surrounding them all with the strongest ward she could, coating them in swirling colors tinted with her panic. The ward shuddered, sending them sprawling, and Talon yanked her against him as the ship disintegrated around them.

.

* * *

.

Demeus had seldom questioned a superior officer out loud, and never in the last three years. If it got back to Dessnia that he had called one a bloody idiot to his face, he didn't like to contemplate the consequences.

"She's frightened, she's crazy, and you're making it worse!" he told the Justiciar, ignoring the blood trickling down his cheekbone from the backhand the mer had given him.

"He spent time with the child," Liz put in, coming up behind him, "Let him try to calm her."

"You'd better be able to," the mer warned, eyes narrowed in anger at the insult.

"I can knock her out if I have to," Demeus said quietly to his teammate when she gave him a worried look, "She's shrugging off magic, but she's dodging touch."

The ship lurched once more, and they hurried their steps before a shrill scream rent the air, halting him in his tracks. But Murril didn't speak…

Everything seemed to freeze for the space of a heartbeat, then the ship bucked again, rising out of the water to hover over the waves as the storm that had capped the city moved toward them, waves larger than the river had ever sported blowing nearby ships away. The swirl of clouds bent downward, twisting and thrashing like a serpent, forcing sailors and Thalmor alike back from the girl. Murril sat alone in a circle of chaos, eyes wide and blank, tangled hair whipping in the wind.

Lightning struck the ship between her and the rest of them, turning to butterflies so quickly he wasn't sure he'd see it, then fading into a furious Imperial man, hair white as the lightning and eyes glowing golden. Thalmor mages struggled to their feet and attempted to bring him down, magic arching uselessly around him as he looked back at the girl, who launched herself at him. Holding her in his arms, he turned back to the Thalmor, the whites gone from his eyes.

"Liz," Demeus muttered, just loud enough for her to hear him over the wind, "we have to get off this ship."

No sooner had the words left his lips than one of the Justiciars panicked, and, assuming the child had Summoned the human-appearing daedra, aimed his attack at her. Shadows gathered where light should be and the entire ship tore itself apart in a cyclone of chaos.

.

* * *

.

Telki leaned as far over Odahviing's neck as she dared, looking ahead for any sight of Rommy, or his target. The winds were rising enough even the dragon was being blown a bit, making it difficult to cling to his back and search. She was in some danger of sliding off until she bolted upright, staring at the column of water forming in Lake Rumare. "There! That waterspout! That's our Rommy!" As Odahviing's powerful wings drew them ever closer, Telki started making out other details: the wrecked ship still being rolled around inside the swirling water, the tiny black bodies floating on the waves, some still moving…and a warded ball with familiar colors bobbing in the chaos-churned waters.

"Odah! See that? Think you can nudge it to shore?" Telki pointed to the ward. "That's our people in there."

"That's a ball. You want me to push a ball, like a dog?" he huffed.

"It's got my sister inside, Odahviing. It's a protection spell keeping her safe."

The dragon grumbled, flying low over the water until he got near the ward, then pulled up, the air stirred by his massive wings pushed the ward across the surface of the water. For someone protesting the indignity of such an action, he certainly seemed to know exactly how best to accomplish the task. When the ward finally bobbed into the shallows, he landed, pushing it the rest of the way with his nose and ignoring the pair of gaping teenagers inside.

"Odahviing, you are the absolute best dragon friend a girl could ever ask for. Thank you." Telki kissed his neck as she slid down.

"That goes without saying, Thuri," he said smugly. "Though if you wish to spread it around, I don't mind hearing it. Often."

"I'll make a song just for you." Telki promised, then hurried over to her sister for some long overdue stress relieving histrionics. "Nala! Are you okay?"

"Oh my gods,  _Telki!"_ Neither woman was particularly coherent for several minutes, hugging and babbling and in general confusing the former Young Ones, who were beginning to wonder if they were witnessing some version of a Khajiit cant.

"You good?" Telki wiped her eyes with her sleeve, patting her sister on the back with the other. "Can you tell me what happened?" Telki cast her eyes at Talon, Shell, Heron and Sura. "Are you guys okay?"

Heron shrugged, "Our friend betrayed us but hey, I might get into Sovngarde now." Sura smacked his arm.

"Gideon will be jealous." Telki sniffed. "Now, explain this betrayal bit. What's happened?"

"They somehow blocked Demeus's memories to back before he lost his humanity," Sura supplied, "so that he would be able to get past your Sight and the other's scrutiny. It…looks like maybe he's still being affected by it. Or just really suicidal," she shrugged helplessly.

"He started to drag me back to Dessnia to be re-educated and instead told my father to come get me," Shell said, scratching the side of her head in confusion.

"He told Dessnia I had to keep my tongue," Nala shared. "He had no reason to keep me whole. Would you love me less if I were mute?" Nala leaned back against Talon's chest, fluttering her lashes. Yes, she did have to make a joke out of it, it was her coping mechanism. Much better than drinking to avoid nightmares.

Instead of replying, Talon picked her up, carried her behind the half-crumbling ruins of a nearby sheltering wall, and kissed her fiercely. Nala was very okay with this plan, kissing him back and wrapping herself around him like a climbing vine.

"Anyone else think we've been good for him?" Shell snickered, having very little doubt what Talon was hiding behind the wall for.

"I'd just hate to be Demeus if he had followed that order," Heron said, giving an only slightly exaggerated shudder. Sobering, he looked out over the water, where the waterspout was easing, bits of ship dropping into Lake Rumare. "Do you think he made it out?" he asked, not able to hide his confliction.

"I…I sort of hope so," Sura said quietly. "I don't like what he's become, but," she shrugged, "I like what he was when he was our teammate."

"Me too, and I bet septims to sweetrolls if this version of him isn't salvageable, there's a Mad God what can roll him back to what was." Telki was tapping her teeth in thought again. "And that stinker owes me, since he ran off and left me behind  _again_."

"Well, I suppose he can make it up to you starting now," Shell said with a grin, watching the swarm of butterflies heading toward them. "Why are some of them red?"

"He's angry." Telki waited, tapping her foot impatiently at the approaching swarm. "Strangely enough, so'm I."

The butterflies swirled into a familiar form a few feet away, Rommy still shushing a weeping little Altmer that clung to him like she was drowning.

"Murril! Oh my baby Murril." Telki's anger at Rommy was immediately put on the backburner in the face of Murril's state. She cuddled into them both, kissing Murril's head and hugging her close with Rommy. After a few minutes, Murril finally quieted, hiding her face between their chests and reflecting that while Daddy was nice and warm, New Mommy had built-in pillows. She wasn't sure which one she wanted more at the moment, so she tangled her hands in both their clothes so they couldn't leave.

Taking a deep breath, Rommy lifted his gaze to Telki, "Before you say anything, I didn't intend to go without you," he said solemnly. "She Summoned me."

Telki raised her eyebrows in surprise. "She what? How?"

"I have absolutely no idea," he said, shaking his head and looking back down at the little girl. "I didn't even know she could  _do_ magic yet, but that wasn't normal magic, Telki, that was completely Chaos magic. My magic, and the magic of the Isles."

Telki canted her head at the little girl. "Rommy, is that something she could learn or absorb from the Isles, or would it have to be something she's born to?"

"She could absorb it if she were there long enough, but…" He shook his head, looking a bit confused. "Elves age differently from humans, but she…I can't remember how old she is, or how long I've had her. I know she came to the Isles after me, but that's it." He looked down in time for the girl to look up and smile at him.

"So, she could be the previous Mad God's little darling? Or descended from one?"

Rommy shook his head, "No, she's mortal. Or, she was. Now…I…Telki, she's changed more in the months since meeting you than she has in a decade. She's grown, but I think she should actually be an adult by now." He looked very conflicted.

"Hey, it's okay, really. And, we've had a couple discoveries, but…" Telki's eyes wandered over his shoulder. "Oh, snap, Demeus. He's still in the water somewhere."

Sighing as if very put-upon, Rommy complained, "I really need to have this entire story in order."

"It gets better, but we'd need all the players assembled for that to happen. So, are you going to chaos his tail up here, or do I need to go swimming?" She blew an errant tangle out of her face. "And you're fixing the mess you've made of my hair, too."

"Telki, I don't know who I'm looking for, I've neither met him nor seen him: It'd be like trying to find Orien or Tyr again," he sighed, wrapping a curl around his finger and making her hair unwind itself. Water spun out and the entire tumble poofed back into cascading curls with an almost audible snap. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Right." Telki shook her head. "Lots happened since you got your Sheo going. And I'm still not sure what his deal is, but I intend to find out." Telki started towards the water. "Odah, do you want to do some fishing?"

"I'm more partial to small porpoises," he replied, lifting a claw from the muck to a loud squelching sound. He looked at his foot as if appalled it had made such an undignified noise.

"S'okay, just be ready to pull me out in a bit?" Telki wrinkled her nose. "Water's still rough."

"Telki," Shell interjected, realizing what the Khajiit was up to, "His teammate is an Argonian, and his other can…teleport, or something. If he made it to the water, he probably made it ashore."

Telki slapped her forehead. "Duh…" A clairvoyance spell lit up in her hand. "So, we'll do this the easy way then." She set the spell searching for Demeus.

Odahviing looked after the spell, and yawned. "If you've no further need of me, Thuri..."

"Go, do. Thanks, Odah," Telki smiled gratefully at him.

" _Lok thum,"_  he replied, launching himself from the muck with another horrid squelching sound. Shaking it off, he circled the City once, inwardly chuckling to watch the little Imperial  _joorre_ shriek and hide from his shadow, then landed on the Tower until eventually the guards got up the courage to challenge him, only to find Blossom and Orien had discovered he was there first and had taken a nap on either side of his head. Fey and Tyr figured they could have no better babysitter for sheer intimidation.

Meanwhile, the foggy trail had led the small crowd on the beach north up the bank, through stands of cattails and over several small, private, and possibly illegal docks, to a muddied area strewn with rocks just east of the Waterfront. Telki cheerfully introduced her fiance to their new foster daughter along the way, and explained Heron's quest to him.

By that time, Murril was feeling better, and ran ahead to pick up some interesting bit, running back to show them, then scamper back ahead. Sura had a collection of junk wrapped in her handkerchief before Murril yelled wordlessly, racing back, jumping up and down, then vanishing back into the tall grass.

"Looks like she found something too big to carry," Rommy commented. "Did you know she called me 'daddy?'" he said, glancing at Telki as they picked their way over.

Telki looked up at him bemusedly. "I think everyone knew that but you, love. Believe it now?"

"No, I mean out loud. She  _said_ it," he revealed. "Screamed it, actually, and did you try to teach her the  _thu'um?_  Because that was similar to the  _thu'um._ "

Telki could feel her eyes welling with emotion. They were all mixed up, but most was a tender feeling with a healthy dollop of pride. "Think she may be getting over the muteness? Chaos from you,  _thu'um_  too….I begin to wonder at our little power sponge."

"'Power sponge?'" he echoed faintly as Murril ran back, stamped her foot at them impatiently, and made an insistent noise. "We're coming, we're…Demeus is a girl?"

"That's…" Heron examined the young woman laying face-down in the mud, long brown hair tangled and arm at an odd angle, "That's definitely not Demeus. Not unless there was more Chaos magic around than I thought there was."

"That's the courtesan from his real team!" Sura said, eyes wide. "Dessnia had her not-executed."

"Ah," Heron replied, as if that solved a big mystery.

"That made absolutely no sense, and you'll have to explain later. She's half drowned at the least, and….that doesn't look right. Rommy?" Telki was looking the poor girl over.

He was already kneeling next to her. "Well, she's alive. Someone broke her collarbone," he said, frowning. He moved it back into place and sealed it, "I've more or less stabilized it, but with the way my powers are acting right now, she should see a real healer."

"I'll take a look," Heron offered, setting Sura on a nearby rock after some consideration. Joining the Mad God as if he wasn't, well, the Mad God, he turned the young woman over and started working on her injury. "That's an odd place to break it," he said, puzzled.

"Heron, what does a 'non-execution' entail?"

"Dessnia doesn't cull, but she gets to a point where it's alright to kill you if you annoy her enough," he said, ripping an ornamental sash from the tattered skirts and making a sling.

"What's odd about the break?" Telki asked, rather than give voice to the indignation that statement invoked.

"Just the positioning, and the angle," he replied, then looked up when Sura sucked in a breath.

"They said she broke her neck," the girl supplied. "Her neck was broken and she was tossed overboard."

"That Argonian…she said someone called Malero did it," Shell, silent until now, put in, gazing at Sura.

"He faked her death. Rommy, is she still tethered?"

"Not anymore," he replied, breaking that link. "Whoever Malero is, he's clever. She wouldn't be able to swim in clothes this heavy with that kind of break, but she's wearing an amulet with Waterbreathing on it. She probably sank out of sight before anyone could realize she wasn't dead and walked to shore."

"He's the scarred one that attacked Sorcha and Ama," Sura said.

"Who's Sorcha?" Rommy threw up his hands. "Why is it nothing happens for weeks and I go crazy for a few days and the family grows by a third?"

"Galmar's new wife, and she's an escaped Young One and a Blade. She's also Tim's little girl."

Gaping at her a minute, Rommy sat in the mud and sulked. Murril climbed into his lap, echoed his pose, and sulked too.

"It's a pouting tiki post," Shell remarked dryly. "You also missed Telki, Lydia, and I putting on a Foresworn fashion show," she teased. The sulk intensified and she giggled.

"Uh, if you're planning an encore performance, can I go too?" Heron asked. "Joking," he said hastily at Rommy's sharp look, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'm a flirt, not an idiot."

"Heron, every time you open your mouth, I like you that much more. If for some reason you don't want to stay with your folks, I'll be happy to call you one of mine." Telki ruffled his hair before turning back to her sulking Mad God.

"Now unsulk, because I'm about to tell you the craziest news yet." Telki carefully didn't watch his face to see if he took her bait or not.

"I think I need some stable, sane time before I hear any more craziness, just to be on the safe side," he said weakly, standing and shedding mud like a duck. Murril continued to pout at him until he put her in his pocket.

"Well, then, get with the poofing. We've an injured girl to see to, and family to reassure we're not dead."

"Work, work, work. Haskill will begin to get jealous," he half-teased, half-groused, lifting the unconscious woman as Heron went to get Sura.

"Haskill don't get the perks you get, either." Telki leaned into him, hugging his arm.

"He's not really into perks," Rommy mused.

"So, is there some way to get back that doesn't involve trying to find a way up the embankment?" Heron asked. Shell snickered evilly and he began to look alarmed, "Should I have not asked?"

"Depends on if you have a weak stomach or not," Rommy replied with a grin. Before the Nord could voice his decision to walk after all, he whisked them up and away, landing them back at the Palace at New Sheoth. He grinned as Heron sat right down where he landed, staring.

"Lord Rommy! You're back! And you brought the Pretty Mortal Boy!" Mehris enthused.

"Not so pretty now," Heron shook his head.

"Wasn't your face what made or makes you pretty," Telki said from Rommy's elbow.

He looked thoughtful a moment, "Maybe now others will have a chance to notice my winning personality first," he grinned.

"You're still pretty, mortal boy!" Valori insisted, falling to her knees and throwing her arms around him. "Rene, tell him!"

"I could invite him back to the barracks and we  _all_ could tell him," Plumwickle suggested, the Chief Seducer looking over the Nord in a way that definitely caught his interest.

"Ladies, as sweet an offer as that is, he'd never survive it. Down Girls." Telki shook her head at them. "So, Rommy, care to make a door to Hjerim that won't go boom?"

"The door to Hjerim went boom?" he asked, startled.

"Heard a boom, walk in, the pieces are covered in chaos, and Murril had splinters in her hands." Telki's tail lashed at the memory, and the corners of her mouth tucked in.

"I'll make a new one later," he said, shaking his head a bit. "In the meantime, I just came to bring the Girls back to Ralof, and possibly kick the Duke's tail if he were loitering."

"Don't be too rough on him. I'd never have found you without his help. He also saved me from a froggie thing that jacked into a dragonny looking thing."

Everyone stared at her for a long moment, interrupted by the present Saints and Seducers realizing that the shadow in the middle of the room was actually Shell, and welcoming her to the Shivering Isles in a very handsy fashion. Shell didn't look as if she minded all that much until Nocturnal's name was mentioned.

That prompted Rommy to open a portal to Hjerim, though instead it opened right next to Betsy. Hastily closing it before she trampled them, he gave them all a sheepish look and focused on Lydia—nice, plain, stable Lydia with no Daedric or Aedric attachments whatsoever.

.

* * *

.

It was a quiet day at Hjerim. Everyone was trying to keep themselves occupied, trying not to notice the obvious absence in the house. Even Blaise was subdued, but he still tried to keep Frankie and Sofie distracted with games of tag, or treasure hunts. Right then, they were out back grooming the milch cow. Lydia was up to her elbows in dough. It was baking day.

She'd worked a lot of her frustrations out kneading and punching the dough for breads. There was a loaf of dark honeyed rye, a long loaf of white that was mostly crust, and a braided loaf from a recipe handed down by her grandmother. Now, she was rolling out pie crusts. She was making Lucia her favorite as a welcome back present. She refused to believe they wouldn't need it.

There was a noise where it shouldn't be, a scuffled boot against some pots left down on the floor, and Lydia turned quickly, already throwing the rolling pin at the invader before it registered that it wasn't a stranger's face. "Oh, Rommy, sorry!"

"Ow. Ow.  _Ow,"_  the Daedric Prince said, blood dripping from his nose onto the girl he carried. Matters weren't helped by a pair of daedra pushing him further into the room as they raced by, yelling their husband's name at the top of their lungs. He wondered how Windhelm would take that. He hoped no one had parked any wagons in the street.

"Lydia, the sobermead, please?" Telki had grabbed a drying towel, and was trying to stifle the flow.

"Why did we leave Talon in Cyrodiil again? Oh, yeah," he blushed, the bloodflow increasing slightly for a moment before he sat, letting his lap take half the woman's weight so he could reach up and un-break his nose.

"Yeah, he and Nala were a little preoccupied. Besides, they still have the door Sam put up for us. They're not stuck." Telki sighed. "I guess we need to get Miss Chicky here settled."

"Probably a good ide—" Rommy's head was shoved back, nose re-broken as Orchid awoke in a strange man's lap after a very trying day. " _OW."_

"Who? Where…?" Orchid looked around, wincing and holding her arm, struggling to get off the floor.

"Hi, we saved your half-drowned behind," Rommy groused, fixing his nose again.

"They can't come after you anymore," Sura said, knowing the older girl would recognize her.

"Lee," Orchid gasped, struggling to her feet, "I have to get to him, I have to…" she swayed, falling right back down.

"You have to get a bath and into bed, preferably before any…two particular…children come home," Shell said with a reassuring smile. "Lydia, sweetcheeks, where are the kids?"

Lydia gestured toward the back. "Currying the cow. I'm sure it'd be no problem to shuffle them off to the Palace if need be. Ulfric has been…twitchy since he could do so little to help."

"Oooh, twitchy Uncle Ulfric. This I must see," she chuckled. "After a bath, I think. Come on, whatever you're called. Let's both submerge in hot water until I'm satisfied you're not planning to kill us all in our sleep, alright?"

Orchid stared at her in bewilderment while Telki sighed, turning to the taller woman, "Lydia, can you get her to the bath? She's got a broken collarbone, and I don't think she can walk straight yet."

"I can do that." Lydia smiled, blushing, at Shell. She'd missed her more than she'd realized, and helping with the bath would give Lydia more time with her. She scooped the girl up as if she weighed less than tundra cotton, and swiftly carried her to the bathing room.

"Talk to you all later!" Shell called, suddenly very cheerful as she followed. "Do let me know when Gideon gets back!"

"After I'm done with him." Telki teased back. She shook her head at the nonsense, and then seated herself on Rommy's lap. "How's your nose? Need kisses?"

"Always, but we have an audience," he said lightly, clasping his hands around her waist and brushing his lips along her jaw.

"That'll do for now, but I think, given what happened with Sura, we should warn the others about this new one before they see her."

Sura blinked, "What happened with me?"

"If they react the same way twice I'll kick both their asses," Heron promised, scowling. "Besides," he added, relaxing a little, "she's taken. First thing on her lips when she woke up was someone's name."

"Very true." Telki hummed. She blinked, looking at Heron and Sura before her, and Rommy here beside her… "Oh, Rommy, before we get pulled into some other something or another, isn't there a little something you can do for Heron and Sura here?"

"I took them off when I took off what's-her-name's," he said, still prodding his nose. Murril had climbed his collar and was patting his neck comfortingly. Seeing their perplexed expressions, he added, "The Soul Trap."

They both blinked, Heron's jaw dropping and Sura's hand coming to cover her mouth.

"You did it already? You amazing man. Thank you." Telki kissed him.

"Lee…he was the ghostly one," Sura ventured, blushing and looking away from them. "Do you think she could tell us where he took Lucia? I'm worried about her."

"What?" Telki whipped back around from her kiss.

"He's known as The Null," Sura explained, pretty face creased with anxiety. "He has a type of magical Gift that allows him to vanish and reappear, but it takes his sense of self from him, I think. I didn't know that before, but from what Demeus said, it's killing him, and…I think Orchid—that's what he called her, Orchid—she helps him. He's who they sent to take us back and wake Demeus. Lucia's eyes turned black and she attacked him. He called her a daedra and cast Banish, but they both disappeared. Then Lucia did it to him and…and only he reappeared."

"My baby girl's someplace in Oblivion?" Telki's ears were ringing again.

"I'm on it," Rommy said, kissing her cheek. "The Girls will help, and maybe Sam will too. You take care of things here?"

"Oh, pretty sure he will, she's his daughter. Frankie's his son."

Pulling back, he stared at her. "Is my madness creeping back?"

"No, they really are his kids. You should have seen the monumental freakout he had. Scared him sober for a few days. He'd just come back from doing something that had worn and worried Mercutio down the morning I finally got the Wabbajack to work.  _Blaise_  had to show me."

"Oh, he did that  _again?_  I told him not to after he took over as the Baliwag King and I had to save him from Cicero," Rommy rolled his eyes.

"And you didn't tell me about this?" Telki was rubbing her eyes. "Go. Call reinforcements. I need my Lucia home safe and sound. Please?"

"Take everyone to the Palace of Kings tonight?" Rommy requested. "And take Orchid to Tyr and Fey? We may have saved her, but I don't trust her, and it is their job to sort the Young Ones. This may be their last chance to." That said, he faded from view with an audible pop.

Telki sighed, and got up. It was going to be a job getting everyone together and out the door, especially with her husbands still in Cyrodiil.

.

* * *

.

It felt as if she'd been walking for days. The fog around her rolled and wafted as she went by, but was otherwise still for as far as she could see. The ground was grey like slate, somewhat springy like dirt, and one solid piece. The closest she could figure it was like the top of a massive, flat mushroom. While she wasn't thirsty or hungry, she was bored, and increasingly hopeless.

"Helloooooo?" Lucia cupped her hands around her mouth, to help the sound go farther, not that she could tell it did any good. Yet, unless her eyes were playing tricks on her…there was a dark spot ahead of her. Lucia picked up her pace. Could it be another person out here? "Hellooooo? Can you hear me?"

Someone was there! A person sat huddled on themself, straight dark hair halfway down their back over grey, mud-splattered robes, facing away from her and not moving. Dark golden ears pointed out from the hair, which was in need of a good combing.

"Hey, are you okay?

The head rose, turned, blue eyes blinking at her a moment before they actually saw her. "You're still here?"

Lucia shrugged. Her heart was double timing now, but she wasn't going to show this guy her fear. "I don't know how to get home, so I'm stuck. Why are you here again?"

"I'm lost," he said, looking forward again. "I can't find my way back."

"Well..." Lucia sat down next to him. "Maybe we can be lost together. Won't be as lonely that way, huh?"

"You remind me of her," he said, tilting his head a bit, "You won't be lost for long."

Lucia looked at him with curiosity. "How do you know I won't be lost for long, and remind you of who?"

He didn't answer, a single tear coursing down his face as the colors began to fade from his features. "I'll keep looking," he said instead.

It was the weirdest thing, and Lucia firmly blamed her mother for it. This was the same guy who showed up and attacked her family, and she felt for him. Of course, trudging the grey plane had given her plenty of time to think. Obviously, he was a Young One. Who else could have attacked them and won like that? If he was a Young One, then it also meant he'd been given orders, or else. Kinda hard to blame him, if she was going to accept Talon and Shell. They'd had to do jobs like this, too, it just hadn't been to her. As her mother would say, the Thalmor sucked rotten baliwog eggs.

"Are you going to be okay?" She reached up, and wiped his tear with her sleeve.

He jumped, startling so badly he fell over, staring at her. Reaching up, he almost touched his cheek but instead flinched again, looking off into the mists around them before fading completely, leaving nothing to show he'd even been there.

Lucia had no idea what just happened. All she knew was she was alone in this grey place again. She swallowed, close to tears: It sucked baliwog eggs, too.

"Lu?" a familiar voice echoed through the mists, sounding uncharacteristically concerned.

"Here! I'm here! Can you hear me? Hellooo!" Lucia jerked upright, nearly falling over in her haste, scanning the fog for some sign of who was calling her, where they were in the mist.

"Well, you managed to get yourself in an odd situation," Sanguine remarked, the mists parting between them as he walked through. He was in his Dremora form, in armor, and oddly enough even had a greatsword on his back.

"I tried to banish a ghostboy that was attacking us. I got stuck."

Sam rubbed his chin, "Uh-huh. That's…why did you get banished to the edge of the Colored Rooms? I mean, you're between the Grove and there, and this is all unclaimed, but you're still closer to…ah. Whatever. Wanna go home?"

"Yes! Yes yes yes!" Lucia hugged him as fiercely as she would have Gideon. "Thank you!"

Giving a little sideways grin, he patted her back and put his arm around her shoulders gingerly, leading her forward. "You know…" he said after a moment, "You're not the first demi-prince to exist…A lot of the Princes have had half-mortal offspring at one point or another. Of course, most of them were loons by mortal standards. Er, what I'm trying to say is that it's customary to give you a pocket plane?"

"Like having my own room?" Lucia's eyes widened. "Wow. That's a lot to think about."

"Room…Realm…" he shrugged. "You could create it, shape it, learn to use whatever abilities passed down."

"And you'll teach me?" Lucia looked up at him with all the hope in her heart.

"Well, I helped Rom out, so I suppose I'm not terrible at it," he said, completely out of his depth. "When Frankie gets older and, you know, adult things start happening, he'll probably need to learn, too." It was odd to see a Daedric Prince look tired, but abruptly he did, "Just let me know if any of the dremora get flirty. Not that I'm opposed on principle, if you're amenable, but I need to throw them into Aetherius first and see if they come back out."

Lucia scrunched her face in thought. "I thought those magics didn't play nice?"

"Until you learn to defend yourself I intend to be an utter hypocrite," he confessed.

Lucia's grin brightened. "Thanks, Poppa." Her hug tightened around him."Take me home now?"

"You mean before your mother figures out how to Shout her way here? Gladly." Shuddering, he opened a portal to Ulfric's wine cellar, realized he was still a Dremora, then grinned, walking out. "Hi, boys!"

"Hi Gunnar, Hi Fjotli." Lucia waved to the guards she knew.

"Don't mind us!" Sanguine called cheerfully, escorting his daughter through the room. "We're just going upstairs to scare everyone who doesn't know who I am!" Once they got in the stairway, he changed back into a Breton, "I'm kidding," he told her, "It's awfully hard to trick them into drinking when they know who I am."

Lucia giggled. "You're like a grown up Blaise."

"Uh…well you'll find that out eventually," he shrugged, then burst into the Great Hall.

Lydia turned around from where she'd been chivying the children into order at the dinner table, having been assured that Shell had Orchid settled. "Lucia!" Supposedly, Lydia didn't know the Whirlwind Shout, but that was the only way she possibly could have gotten from where she was to hugging Lucia close.

They were shortly joined by the rest of the family. Kids crowding, wanting to know where she'd been on her adventure. Sam eventually managed to back out and make for the mead on the sideboard. One noticed. He looked down to see a small person wrapped around his leg.

"You found Luce." Frankie had propped his chin on Sam's knee, looking up at him.

"Yep," he replied, grabbing the sugariest sweetroll he could reach and sitting down next to the kid. "Here, have sugar."

"Knew you were a good Poppa." Frankie propped himself into Sam's side, and proceeded to inhale the sweetroll in record time.

"Well, I'm better than Dagon and that's what matters, I suppose," he said philosophically, handing the boy a second sweetroll. Maybe he should go ask Malacath for pointers.

Frankie accepted the sweetroll with a big smile, and tucked back into Sam's side to eat it. "You're better than lots of poppas. You came back."

Chest feeling unaccountably tight and painful, Sam took a long drink. "Sorry you had a bad time," he said, not knowing if he meant the boy's stepfather or the attack. Possibly both.

Frankie patted Sam's arm, wrapping it around himself. "It's better now. You made it better." Frankie yawned.

"You're one of those kids that go right from sugar to crash, aren't you?" Frankie's chin fell against his arm. He was already lightly snoring. With a resigned sigh, Sam put his arm around him and hoped Mara never saw…Erandur was looking his way. Great. Swallowing the rest of the bottle without pause, he pretended to pass out before the Priest tried to talk to him.


	42. Knock, knock! Who's There?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shell slipped out of the room her parents had been given for the night in the White-Gold Tower—no one wanted to reveal the existence of the portal yet, if ever—with mixed feelings. She'd left Orchid there, sobbing quietly all over her mother. The younger courtesan had apparently felt horrible for having kidnapped her former mentor's children, but orders were orders, and even Fey's anger couldn't last through what the girl had endured after she'd completed her training. Of course, it helped that Tyr knew she wasn't lying and Orien had been obscenely cheerful about seeing her again. Apparently, Fey's tendency to hold a grudge had only passed to Blossom, who had taken revenge by tricking Orchid into holding Bacon after sneaking her beans. Shell didn't know what a flatulent horker was like, and didn't intend to find out. She excused herself and went room to room, looking for Gideon and "rescuing" some interesting trinkets along the way.

Some of the maids were talking. Standing in the shadow of a drape, she eavesdropped, unable to help the smile the that curled her lips. Apparently Telki's sisters weren't the only women out of Cyrodiil marveling the quality of the men in Skyrim. Seemed pretty simple to Shell: Nords had Muscles. That they also had a reputation for being dull-witted was unfortunate, but trust Imperials to think that of anyone who didn't prefer talking their way around three subjects before getting to the point: Start a conversation with an Imperial about the weather and they'd assume you wanted to talk about something else entirely.

Still, thanks to them she learned where Gideon was, and her unhidden giggle at the news started a rumor of ghosts, as well. Imperials bred rumors, apparently. Shell had collected quite a few interesting ones before she flickered through the shadows to where the Penitus Oculatus stationed to the Tower kept themselves in fighting form, using Nocturnal's Gifts to hasten her way.

Pausing half in, half out of the Realm of Shadow, she let her eyes drink him in, feeling her heart beat harder against her ribs. It still did that, every time she saw him. Her eyes pricked but her lips wanted to curl upward, her stomach cramped in slight anxiety but her heart felt incredibly light. Glancing downward a moment, she smiled softly and settled in to wait. Knowing Gideon, the Penitus members would give up before he lost stamina. She'd rather they were gone before she stepped from Shadow.

.

* * *

.

Gideon took the head off yet another practice dummy, and methodically reduced the rest of it to splinters. He wasn't even using Shor's hammer, but a practice maul. He'd always rather be in the thick of things, solving problems. Now he had to wait.

He hated waiting.

He crushed the last remaining splinter of the dummy and moved down to the next one. He started from the beginning of his practice routine, determined to get further through it before this dummy was demolished. Perhaps by the time he reached the last dummy, his muscles and mind would be tired enough to rest. He'd done his part, he'd have to trust the others to do their part. To bring Shell home safe, to find his little girl, to bring Telki back safe from whatever chaos she was raising without him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught one of the elite guard's blanched expression and smiled grimly. Sadly, he wasn't terribly impressed with the Emperor's guards. Perhaps he could talk Mede into accepting a few from Shor's Order to toughen them up.

He followed that thought. There wasn't anything he could do about his worry, so perhaps he could sort something out with the current Heir situation. If all were right in his world, he'd be laughing himself sick over the current crop of rumors he'd heard just here on the field. Apparently, Rommy was now an Agent of the Aedra, sent to sort all their woes and save them from the Thalmor using another Interregnum to rip them all to shreds, and, after bestowing the Storm Crown on Tyr, had poofed back to Legend.

He couldn't wait to hear how those rumors would change when Rommy came tearing back in all his glory with Shell and Telki. The rest of the rumors, he'd have to remember them, so Telki could forever commemorate them in farce. His favorite so far was the confusion over the Dragonborn's race, with one of the claims being she was a Dibellan Redguard with eight husbands—one of them Ulfric—running an orphanage out of the Palace of Kings.

Apparently, the Penitus, originally confused about him, had arrived at the erroneous conclusion that he was Tyr's Housecarl. They talked quietly, evaluating him and finally, reluctantly decided that he wasn't someone they would want to take on one-on-one. Some of the methods they discussed, thinking him absorbed in his workout and unable to hear, were downright dirty. Perhaps the organization wasn't as forthright as those in Skyrim believed. Still, here in their own space, with the occasional maid coming out to gossip and flirt with them, they were fairly chatty, especially compared to Young Ones. Honestly, they weren't too different from Stormcloaks.

Gideon flattened the post to the ground, brow heavy again as he moved to the next dummy. He didn't know what to make of Young Ones anymore. He trusted Talon, Shell, and Fey with his life and, more importantly, his family. He'd thought he'd made headway with young Demeus, but to find him turned traitor was a heavy blow. The only thing that offered him any comfort was the conflicting accounts. Perhaps it was some sort of magic compulsion the GhostBoy had put on Demeus. He had no way of knowing unless and until they brought them home. With a deep roar of frustration, he brought the practice mallet down in an overhead swing, splitting the dummy's post to the ground and cracking the mallet.

"Any of you care to spar?" Gideon strolled over to the practice weapons, picking up a heavy quarterstaff, testing it against his palm.

"Perhaps tomorrow," one of them said, a dusky fellow with a crooked nose, voice heavy with amusement. "Our free hour is almost over and we have to dig up some padding first. And maybe a healer."

"Callius here just wants to run to his mother," someone else called, earning some snickers.

Gideon shrugged. "I can heal, and I promise I won't cause as many bruises with this, as I might have with that." His chin pointed to the cracked mallet.

"Might actually take you up on that, then," Callius replied as a deep tone rang through the practice yard, making the Penitus members start to pack up and shuffle inside.

"Using John's rules, or back alley brawl?" Gideon quipped. His head turned. "What in Shor's name was that?"

"That would be the 'get your butts to mess or else' warning," the friendly Imperial replied with a laugh. "And back alley brawl, please. I'm from the docks district."

"I prefer it myself. You're more likely to live that way." Gideon sighed. "And who do I owe for the dummies I've demolished?"

"That's the great thing about being here, rather than some backwater," Callius called as he walked backwards through the door, "the Crown pays for everything. See you tomorrow, Paladin!" the agent called, proving himself a little more learned than his fellows.

"Tomorrow then, you owe me a spar!" Gideon called after, idly twirling the staff around his neck, then continued around his middle, rolling it off the edge of his hand, bouncing the edge on the ground, catching it to twirl it behind his back and into front guard position, and from there he was off into a practice routine his bones had learned before he'd finished his first adolescent growth spurt.

Halfway through, as he was spinning the staff behind him, he heard the telltale, and turned just in time to swat a dummy's head out of the way with his staff. He searched, but there was no one there. He was more than a little confused, but invisibility wasn't a new trick. Someone had thrown that thing at him. " _ **Laas.**_ " Gideon surveyed the area it'd come from, and the surrounding yard. He wouldn't have stayed put after lobbing the thing.

And there was Shell, one hand on her cocked hip, eyes dancing with her usual laughter while deeper feelings hid just beneath.

"Shell!" Her name on his lips was more than a prayer, and he grabbed her up for a kiss as hungry as the look she'd given him. One more piece of his world had been put to rights. "I may not be able to let go of you for a month solid. You don't mind, do you?"

"Nah, I can run the Guild from my very handsome new Guildmaster chair," she replied, running one hand over his shoulder and bicep before returning it to his neck.

"Are you as okay as you're looking? Do I need to break any heads?" His eyes roved over her, making sure she wasn't just putting on a brave face. He cradled her close and ran kisses from her forehead to her collarbone.

"I'm much better now," she said softly, arms tightening momentarily. "I'm assuming they gave you a room in this place somewhere?"

"It's not far, actually." Gideon's long legs made short work of the distance to his room in the Tower. Who cared for scandalized maids or servants told gruffly to "Move!" He had Shell, and they were going to his room, and he'd show her exactly how happy he was she was home safe. He wasn't sure why she waved and winked at the maids, though.

The room he'd been given was about the size of the bedroom back at Hjerim. Shell smirked, glancing up at him and back around. The Tower had limited space, true, but the size could simply be explained by it having the only bed big enough for him. "Gideon, did you tell anyone who you were?" she laughed, taking in the furnishings.

"No? Why?" Gideon looked down at her, wondering what blunder he'd managed now. He had more important things in mind, like how to get her out of that lovely, but frustrating, leather armor.

She couldn't speak for a long moment, laughing too much. Finally, she managed, "They must think you're Tyr's housecarl or something. Oh, someone is going to be embarrassed for  _years_  about this."

"Is that a bad thing?" Gideon looked around. "It's a nice room, and I won't hang half off the bed." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "But I'd much rather get you in the bed, and out of this armor. How do you even put this on?" He sat down on the bed with her in his lap.

Shaking her head at him, she kissed his cheek then hopped up, eyes scanning the room before walking over to the wall and leaning down, seeming to peer at it intensely. "Hello there. I don't mind a bit of voyeurism, but he might, so if you could please head off and inform your steward that this man is a high-ranking Paladin of Shor and husband to the Dragonborn that defeated Alduin and not security personnel, I'd appreciate it. And grab the other guy before I poke him in the eye."

"Spies? Really?" Gideon sighed, massaging his brow. "I'm glad you found them before I did."

Shell pouted, eyes dancing, "But who's going to go tell all those pretty housemaids what I'm getting and they're not?"

Gideon raised an eyebrow, stalking her with a familiar heated look. "How well does this room prevent sound from carrying?"

"Not very," she replied, matching his look but adopting an innocent pose. "How much cursing are they going to hear as you try to figure the straps out again?"

Gideon groaned, pulling her to him. "I thought I made it clear I needed you here, in these arms." He dropped his chin on her head. "I don't suppose you'd rather they hear how many times I send you over the edge? That is, if you wanted to make them green with envy for some reason."

"Let's make some Imperials look like Orcs," she agreed, raising her arms around his neck as her armor simply vanished in a haze of black smoke. The smirk widened at the barely suppressed gasp from the wall. "Last chance to leave," she caroled.

"I've put the hammer through stonework before. Shall we test these?" Gideon growled.

Clinging to him, shaking with laughter, Shell shook her head. "He's going. I can hear his footsteps. Should be a fun sparring match, though."

"It was him?" Gideon shook his head. "I thought him better than spying on a couple's time together." He hoisted her higher against him.

"Orders are orders," she replied with a shrug. "You'll get used to it, or they'll learn better. Probably the former."

"Enough about damned Imperial spies. I'd much rather concentrate on you, safe, here, in my arms." Gideon slowly and reverently kissed his way from her eyes, to her lips, and then to those delicate ears he never tired of kissing.

Making a mental note to find and plug all the peepholes in whatever room they gave him tomorrow, Shell held him close and gave herself over to loving. Gideon made sure she knew just how thankful he was she was home, safe, and loved. He also made sure those maids got an earful.

Much later, Gideon half-drowsed atop Shell, head resting on her chest as she idly combed through his hair with her fingers. Poor man had tried to move away, thinking he'd crush her. She wondered how Telki had let him get away with such behavior for so long.

"So, since you're here, I'm assuming everyone is home safe. What do we know, and who am I going to go kill?" Gideon propped himself between her breasts on his chin. He wasn't leaving his happy valley anytime soon.

Her hand stilled a moment, then resumed. "You know, I always thought Dessnia was one of the better ones?" she said after a long moment. "She doesn't cull; her Young Ones are most likely of all to die of natural causes. They can marry, have families…turns out she's just as demented as Faloniril. Maybe worse."

Gideon kissed both breasts. "Shell, compared to Faloniril, Mehrunes Dagon looks like an Aedra. It's no wonder you thought Dessnia was better. Now, you've lived outside that hellhole, and you can see things for what they are." Gideon wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Now, how do we go about ridding ourselves of this blighted waste? As I understood it from Talon, you're not the only one that looks up to her."

Shell snorted, but sadness lurked in her eyes. "Demeus was ready to throw away his life rather than return to us, even knowing we'd probably welcome him back. He has at least one sibling there still, but…I wish I knew what other hold she has on them. It was like he couldn't bear to leave her, but he dreads going back."

Gideon hummed. "If we can save him from himself, we will. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one that feels that way. I'm also pretty sure there'll be a meeting of the minds in the morning to plan our second raid on an estate?"

"I don't think it's a good idea," she offered hesitantly, nibbling her bottom lip and not bothering to hide how troubled she was. "Something else is going on, and that makes me nervous. I'm not sure we should move until we know what it is."

"Hmm, I've heard all that before. I think it was just before we met, and look how that turned out." Gideon shifted until he could wrap both arms around Shell, his face so close to hers they shared breath. "Dessnia's written her own doom. I don't think we could stop Rommy even if we wished, but what we can do is possibly guide things so we rescue as many of the Young Ones and others trapped under her thumb as we can." He raised his brows in a wheedling expression. "Have I let you down yet?"

"No," she sighed, "but I still think something's very wrong here. We're missing something significant. I mean, the woman gave the go-ahead for her own agent to be brutalized, and I don't think it's the first time. Faloniril allowed them to degrade us, but never to lose their fear of us. We were a check on them. And the way Demeus acted…Gideon, we have to be missing something!"

Gideon hummed. "I'm sure we are. There's no way we know everything yet. Perhaps we can get Rommy to wait long enough for us to send in an infiltrator to the estate, or until we can talk to one of the team…did we catch any of them? Perhaps Telki would agree to slip in and play the lapcat to find out what we need to know."

"I'm pretty sure Heron could tell us, if he knew it was abnormal," Shell said, shifting a bit. "Only problem is, he's been under that witch his entire life. And I now know that is completely literal at least once before his escape."

Gideon growled. "For that alone I'd see her hang."

"He may be a legal adult in the Empire but…" she shook her head. "He didn't have a choice in the matter. Even if he never denied her, it wasn't a real option for him. His eyes just went dead when he talked about it even a little."

Gideon shrugged. "There's precious little I'd put past these soulless fiends."

Silence followed, until finally, she voiced a thought. "They're not all bad, you know. The Thalmor."

He sighed. "Shell, I do not put you or your mother in the same category as a 'Thalmor.' Any person who willingly puts a child in the situation you were in has given up any right whatsoever to call himself souled. I cannot think of any circumstance that would make what was done to you or these kids morally acceptable."

"Dessnia's son spends his time running off pirates on the northern coast. A Thalmor priest of Auriel I was sent to kill had a habit of smuggling human servants back to Cyrodiil. They're a mixed group, Gideon, you're just seeing the worst of them. For every one out here arresting Talos worshipers, there's another somewhere keeping peace or helping others."

Gideon smirked. "Love, you just answered your own question. They, like you, like your mother, like Talon, weren't 'real Thalmor.' Why else were you sent to kill the priest?"

"Actually, because he had insulted Faloniril. Nothing to do with his regular hobby," she winced. He had actually blessed her before she killed him, and he'd known exactly what she was about to do.

Gideon hummed. "And their opinion on Young Ones? On subjugating all of Tamriel?"

"The majority of them don't know we exist. And…Altmer are peculiar, Gideon. They think they're wonderful and want to share their intellect, their wisdom, with the rest of the races. The rest of the races are too stupid to know what's good for them, though."

"And there's the rub. The minute you think you're better than everyone else, you've messed up." Gideon rubbed noses with her. "Every race, every culture, has something that makes it wonderful, makes it unique, makes it valuable. The moment you think yours is the best, you become the worst. If you don't listen, you won't be listened to; if you don't value another, it's damned hard to value you. That is what your wonderful Altmer, as a whole, have forgotten." Gideon kissed her nose. "I know it's not true of all Altmer, we have valued individuals in Skyrim, if you've noticed." Gideon smoothly turned the nose rub into a sly play for her ear, nibbling along the edge. "Now, if we're done with our philosophy session, I think there's a young lady I was showing just how much I missed her and love her. Shall I continue?"

"You don't want to hear about everything else?" she gasped, tilting her head away from him before his nibbling turned her brains to mush. "I figured you'd sleep better at least knowing Lu is safe."

"I will. You told me as much earlier." He nibbled across her jaw to the other ear. "The rest can wait 'til morning."

.

* * *

.

True to Shell's prediction, a servant appeared first thing in the morning to show them to Gideon's new room. He looked at Shell curiously, obviously wondering who she was. She gave him an impish look and let him continue to guess. Sooner or later, they would discover she was the new Imperial Heir's stepdaughter. After that, she dreaded to ponder.

The new room was twice as large as the last one, and, as in Altmer towers, higher, actually right below the level with Tyr's current room. Gideon's almost sheepish comment that they must have been a bit too loud the night before had her gasping for air, she laughed so hard. The servants setting out breakfast on the table in the room—large enough for four and with a crevice down the center that suggested it could be extended—looked at her askance. One of the older women suggested she might want someone to bring her something "more appropriate" to wear than her armor. Smiling with all the sweet innocence of Orien, she'd changed into one of the tunics that her mother had let her borrow, still stowed in one of the special Thieves Guild bags on her Nightingale Armor. Specifically, the one that showed far too much cleavage. The woman had stopped offering after that.

"Shell. I thought you wanted me able to talk today." Gideon, who had been eyeing breakfast, now had his gaze stuck on her chest.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled an ornamental handkerchief from another pouch and tucked it into the neckline, the way young girls did to preserve their modesty when they were considered a bit too young to show any cleavage.

He got up from the table, wrapped both arms around her, and cuddled her close. "Thank you. I'll remove it with my teeth after all the talking's done."

"Promises, promises," she teased breathlessly, shivering a bit at his breath on her ear.

"Don't I keep my promises? Even the impossible ones?" Gideon nipped her ear lightly.

"Remember that thing where food is good when it's hot but when it's cold it's sub-par?" she returned in the same tone. "I got kidnapped for a day. All I was fed was magicka poison. I want food, then I want you, then I want more food, then you for the rest of the day, alright?"

"Sounds like heaven." Gideon kissed her, scooped her up, and deposited her in a chair at the table. "My Lady, your breakfast feast awaits." He tucked away the information about the magicka poisoning for later. Right now, he had her here and safe. He'd allow himself to rage later.

Glancing around them, she cast Muffle over the room, sighing. "The curious servants didn't let me search as thoroughly as I'd like," she offered by way of explanation, grabbing herself some toast and a crock of jam.

Gideon smiled. "That was probably intentional, then, to keep you from finding all their snooping attempts. Chances are, they're now positioning someone who can read our lips."

"I'm installing a scamp in the crawlspaces, then," she decided, licking jam off her fingers. "They'll Banish it, of course, but it'll shriek to high heaven whenever it sees them."

"I could just use the Hammer to check the walls." Gideon offered with a smirk. "Imagine how much more space that would open up."

Giggling, she tossed a fluffy Imperial pastry at him, the kind that was mostly air and butter and somehow kept being served even though it tasted like dust. "So, Haffod could barely look at me, and the children were all very subdued. Care to fill me in on this side of things?"

"Haffod thinks he somehow failed you all, because he couldn't fight off The Null." Gideon sighed. "I wasn't there for it, only came in to find Lucia, the twins, you, the foundlings, and Murril missing. Tyr stormed into the Imperial City adragonback, took his twins back during the Elder Council session, and wound up named Imperial Heir himself by Mede. Telki and Rommy showed up, Rommy's storm forming a crown over Tyr's head no less, before he stormed off himself, Telki in hot pursuit adragonback. Then you came home." Gideon sighed. "And since you weren't filling my ears about anyone missing, I'd assumed Lucia and the foundlings had been found safe and sound as well."

She fiddled with her toast a moment before putting it down. "More or less, I suppose. Sam brought Lucia home last night. We lost Demeus, but we…well, sort of gained Orchid, the courtesan from his actual team."

Gideon pulled her to his side, hugging her close. "If pattern follows, her team will come looking for her. We might wind up with the whole passel of them before this is over, including Demeus."

Shaking her head, she relaxed against him and allowed her confliction to finally come to the surface. "She, well, she was more or less culled. They think she's dead, because she and one of her teammates dared to care for each other. And the one that cared will probably kill the one that saved her."

Gideon mulled that over. "We need to talk to Orchid, then."

"She's upstairs. Sobbing all over my mother. Who was her teacher, and…" Shell took a deep breath. "She never held me like that. Not after I grew up and she thought…I felt so jealous I was sick with it. I mean, the girl just kidnapped my siblings, and my mother, Collector of Grudges, just let it go! Just listened and held her and…" she groaned in frustration, pressing her palms against her face.

"Shell," Gideon sighed. "I don't think I need to tell you that Fifi did his level best to destroy all family ties between you, yes?" At Shell's careful nod, Gideon finished chasing his thought. "Your mother's face, when you cried after killing Ilmiyon, it was guilt, over thinking you lost to her, over mistrusting you. She's as conflicted as you are. If you want your mother to hold you like she held that girl—a girl whose place she's literally experienced for herself—take it. You'd be doing yourself and her a favor, because she's sure she's failed you, and that you don't want her comfort anymore."

Musing on that for a moment, Shell decided she didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Dessnia condemned both of them, you know. The Null Haffod lost to? He has some kind of Gift that's slowly killing him each time he uses it. She was able to help him hold on to himself. I was pretending to be asleep, but from what I did manage to see?" she shook her head, "I don't think we'll be seeing him again."

"It seems she's condemned the whole team." Gideon shook his head. "The capricious way Young Ones are used mystifies me completely. I shudder to think what you could have accomplished were Talon in charge. As it is, I thank Shor it seems only idiots and fools control the strings. You are a terrifyingly effective lot."

"Well-trained but mismanaged," she said with forced cheerfulness. "Almost like someone is looking out for you lot."

"No more, you're free of that, and you're never going back to it. You have my promise on it." Gideon smiled. "And of course someone's looking out for me. Who else is going to keep the gods entertained?"

"Telki, probably," she replied, reaching up to playfully shove his head back.

"Well, since we both are 'hers' then I guess we're safe, then. Would you want to tell Telki her favorite Bosmer or paladin's gone?"

"Much rather tell Telki than Rommy at this point," she said, shuddering. "I've never seen anything like what he did to that ship. And Murril…I really hope he bottles her magic up somehow, because that was like Blaise fever-dancing with the Wabbajack, only not as funny." Grabbing her toast more because she knew she should than because she had any actual appetite, she continued, "People are worried that this means the war is back on. It honestly could mean that, if the Thalmor think the Imperials did that somehow. I hope they had enough agents witness it to report that no mortal or group of mortals could do what he did. There are still warped fish and corpses washing ashore."

Gideon sighed. "If Dessnia has as many ears as are touted in Imperial lands, word should get back that was no mortal magic. And if the war is back on, I sincerely feel sorry for the Thalmor. I don't see Rommy or Sam sitting this one out, since family is involved." Gideon smiled down at her. "Your Thalmor might actually have to get over how wonderful they are, and sue for real peace."

"Uh, yeah, good luck with that," she snarked, reaching over and grabbing something that looked vaguely like a cinnamon roll, vaguely like a sweetroll, but slathered in cherry glaze. "Remind me to ask Rommy what this is and to make it often." Examining him after a moment, she asked, "So I'm guessing no one has had a chance to explain to you how they got a mole into our midst?"

"No, so far, you're the only one I've talked to that's come back from Rommy's little jaunt." Gideon pulled her down in his lap. "I was only somewhat joking. I need to hold you." He rested his chin on her head. "So, how did they sneak Demeus past her Sight?"

"They repressed his memories back to when he was around Sura's age, I think," she said sadly, "Back to when he wasn't fully theirs, when he still wanted to escape them. They imprisoned his adult self in his own mind and let him bond to a new team, make new friends, gain hope and live exactly how he would had it been real, then restored his memory and his devotion to them. I don't like who Demeus became, but that was…" She shook her head, her eyes closing over her thoughts a moment. "It feels silly to say needlessly cruel, given everything I've seen, but I watched it start to tear him apart. I think it broke him, Gideon."

Gideon sighed. "Then we'll piece him back together." Gideon tightened his arms around her comfortingly. "And you know I keep my impossible promises."

"So you keep assuring me." After a moment, she added, "It makes me a bit fearful of the day you can't. I'd rather you break a promise to me than die, or worse."

"Then I suppose I better promise not to die, or worse," Gideon teased.

"I'd really rather you didn't," Shell said, shivering with memory. "That tends to invite bad things to happen. Just, if you can't be careful, be smart and plan ahead. Don't go without someone there in case it all goes to pieces, alright?"

Gideon sighed, all merriment dropping like a Skyrim winter. "I cannot promise to always do the smart thing. I cannot always promise to be careful. I can promise you I will do what I think is right, and be as cautious and clever as I can and still be true to myself and my vows."

"Anu and Sithis, you're going to need extensive looking after," she said, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. "Good thing you're a joy to look at."

"Good thing I have you to watch my back."

"Speaking of," she turned her head slightly, eyes narrowed at the section of wall swinging forward where it had looked fairly solid.

Callius leaned against the hidden doorway, holding a piece of parchment that had "No Peeking" written on it. "Got your note," he grinned, waving it at her, then raising an eyebrow at how Gideon had risen protectively to his feet.

"How'd you get passed the rune that would go off if you moved it?" she pouted.

The man tisked, wagging a finger at her, "You have your secrets, I have mine."

"Telki is going to kick the Penitus collective ass," Gideon shook his head.

"Oh, probably," the Imperial's grin, if anything, widened. "Which is why I came to parlay."

"After sending her into the Dark Brotherhood by herself? I'm thinking a dragon's weight in honey nut treats, and a heartfelt apology on that commander's part. How long did it take him to quit coughing up cloth?"

"No idea; haven't heard this story," he said, striding over and raising an eyebrow as he indicated a seat. At Shell's shrug, he sat, looking rather like an eager hunting hound; relaxed, but still ready to move at a moment's notice. "Please share. Which commander, and is this good blackmail material?"

Gideon eyed him up and down. "Are you one of those Imperials that is going to look for three different meanings, or do you speak Nord?"

"I speak Nord to Nords," he assured them, grin not dimming a whit.

"Good." Gideon sat himself down, pulled Shell back into his lap, and started in with all the flair of a storyteller. "It was back before she'd defeated Alduin, after finding a contact in Riften that could help her. She went missing from the inn, and no one could find her. The only clue was some sleepwort mixed in with the dinner's herbs, and a nightshade on her pillow. Erandur was furious and stormed off to get help. Someone had to have seen  _something._ His quest eventually led him to Dragon's Bridge and the clutch of Penitus Oculatus there. As he was shouting at the Commander, I think it was Maro, Telki came strutting in with the Blade of Woe, the dagger of the Dark Brotherhood's leader. She told him that she'd been kidnapped by the woman, killed her rather than murder for her, and been informed he was the one to talk to about it. Maro wanted to send her after the rest of the Brotherhood. Erandur raged at him for sending a lone woman into a nest of assassins, and Maro just shrugged and told him to go with her if he was that worried.

"She snuck through the whole place, sniping the Dark Brotherhood. Erandur says he just followed her around the whole time, doing nothing. She brought the hoods back, and threw them at the commander, called him a mudsucking son of a horker, and told him to choke on the hoods, please and thank you."

Gideon leaned back. "It was one of the first stories Erandur shared when I joined them."

Callius's muddy grey eyes shone with laughter. "Ah," he said. "Yes, that's pretty good blackmail material, but I think I can probably tell you what he was after, if you want to hear."

Gideon waved an expansive hand at Callius. "Please do share, my good man."

"Anyone that got a chance to get close enough to kill the leader of the Dark Brotherhood probably wasn't on the side of right and righteousness, to Maro's way of thinking. He probably sent her in there as the first convenient way he could think to get rid of her, and get the assassins to let their guard down to boot, if they thought she was all that was coming. I would kill to have seen his face when she came back, though. If she hadn't insulted him and stormed out—I'm assuming she stormed out?—he probably would have offered her a job."

"Probably literally." Gideon laughed, "Too bad he didn't do his homework on her. Not that she would have accepted had he asked nicely. Her first run-in with the 'fairness' of the Empire was getting sent to the block for not recognizing the nice man that loaned her a cloak was a Stormcloak."

"Honest mistake," Callius said politely, though whether he was talking about the commander or the headsman was unclear. "So, if she killed all the Dark Brotherhood assassins where did you get your training?" he asked Shell.

She arched an eyebrow. "Can't learn by spying so going for casual interrogation?"

"I have to report  _something._  Unless you want me to do what I did last night, and just report you exhausted yourselves too much to talk." He raised his hands helplessly. "I still have a job to do, and you two are either going to be wonderful or terrible for completing assignments."

Gideon sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Do you think the Dark Brotherhood are the only assassins in existence? Hell, she's Bosmer, she could have been trained by the ones that trained the ones Telki killed."

"No, I don't. The problem is that most of them aren't on the side of the Empire," he replied with a mock wince.

Gideon gave Callius a long considering look. "Well, let me point something out for your superiors. Four times now, the Empire failed her spectacularly. Once when they consigned her to the block, once sending her after the Dark Brotherhood, and the two attempts on her family. Precisely why should we, her family, help you?"

Callius groaned, leaning his head back. "You're going to make me get personal, aren't you?" Shaking his head, he looked back at Gideon. "Alright, you don't like the crap the Penitus does for expedience? Neither do I. Neither do a lot of us. We do it because we're ordered and it's for the common good. So we're told. However, it's crap. We know it, most of our superiors know it, but they still do it. Why? Hell if I know, but I've been working my way up from the gutter to find out since I joined this organization when I was fourteen. They didn't even care that I lied about my age."

Gideon folded his arms on the table, eyes narrowed. "If you don't like it, and your superiors don't like it, don't you think it's high damned time things changed? What the hell does it matter if it's Thalmor or the Empire, if you feel like horker dung doing things you don't believe in?"

Annoyance flashed across the Imperial's face and he glanced at Shell, "Is this a Nord thing or a him thing?"

"Still figuring that out," she replied, munching on grapes and watching like a bored teenage girl at a melodrama.

"You want our help and you need our help. That's going to cost you and your superiors rediscovering a conscience."

The agent sighed and Shell finally took pity on him, patting Gideon's arm. "His superiors are lost causes,  _mellani._  He's trying to wiggle his way into command to change it around."

Gideon's eyes lit up. "Alright. That I can work with, I think."

"So, you're willing to be our double agent if we help you rise through the ranks, if I'm guessing you right," Shell said with a little grin, testing some soft cheese with a bit of crusty bread. "Alright, this place is going to make me fat."

"Wouldn't it be easier to line them all up, and let Telki feed the ones she doesn't like to Odahviing?"

"See, that's the kind of expedience I'm actually looking to avoid," Callius said, still looking annoyed, but for an entirely different reason.

Gideon looked at him. "Ah, if she doesn't like them, it's because she can tell they've already sold their soul to the Void."

"I don't care if they're Molag Bal," he replied. "Do you know what I did my first few years? I went back to homes of agents and Legionnaires and whatnot to tell their families that they were dead. No matter how big of an asshole someone is, there's still someone that thinks the sun shines out of their ass."

Gideon rubbed his eyes. "I guarantee you, for Telki not to like someone, I doubt that's the case. She adopted a sanguinist into her family. I trust her ability to detect evil better than my own."

"Well, I don't," he replied bluntly. "And trust me, I've met evil. I was too small to escape when the Thalmor held this city during the War."

Gideon sighed, rubbing his eyes again. "I am sorry for what you experienced, and I am sorry I was flippant. Telki probably wouldn't actually feed them to Odahviing, but clearing out the 'superiors' would probably be quicker and more accurately done to let her decide who stayed and who went back home." His eyes lit up. "Shell, perhaps we should introduce our new friend to Telki today."

"I'm actually pretty booked today, and they're going to be suspicious of all of us doing something just like this for a while now," he said.

"Now now, you promised to spar with me today. I'm not letting you out of it. That's bound to draw my wife to the practice yard."

"Fine, but we can't talk about any of this," he felt obligated to point out, since the Nord had proven fairly obtuse to some of what he thought was him being obvious. Maybe he wasn't as versed in Nord as he thought. Or perhaps the ones in Skyrim were even more straightforward than the ones in the heartland. He shuddered inwardly at the thought.

"Don't worry. Telki's a bard. I doubt you'll get a word in edgewise."

Laughing shortly, he leaned back in his chair a bit. "As long as no one feeds the dragon anyone, that will do. Now I do feel it necessary to point out that when your friend takes the Throne, he'll get to fire or rehire all the commanders of the Penitus. Heck, he's a Septim: If he felt like going to war he could reinstate the Blades."

Gideon sat up abruptly. "Will he, now? That's news. How many of the Penitus would want to stay Penitus, and how many would be interested in becoming Blades? We rescued more than a few from the Isles."

"Except for the Blades apparently being half religious foundation, we pretty much occupy the same niche," Callius replied, fiddling with Shell's note. "Depending on that and what exactly all they'd be doing, I really couldn't tell you. Times change and so do organizations. The Blades served the Emperor because he was Dragonborn, and the Empire while it had a Dragonborn Emperor. The moment it didn't, they would turn their backs on the Empire and work covertly to put a Dragonborn back on the Ruby Throne. I don't give a toss about Dragonborn, I just want someone to take care of my country without running over the people at the bottom of it." His tone was light, but the emotion burned behind his eyes was anything but. Gideon was very familiar with that light. He'd seen it in the eyes of his teachers, in Ulfric's eyes when it came to Skyrim, and probably his own if he could but see them when doing what he knew he was born to do.

Gideon smiled at him. "Good. That's what we've brought you. Tyrlief has been the bottom of society. Hell, Telki's practically walking compassion personified. My Oath to Shor was to take care of people, and that's not just in my homeland, but all lands, including Cyrodiil."

"I looked up the Oath to Shor last night," he nodded. "It's one of the reasons I'm bothering to talk to you.

"So, I'm expected back soon, and the servants will be here to collect your dishes any minute, so I'm just going to report that you two, despite him being married, are gaggingly fond of each other and spent the morning flirting and feeding each other."

"Shell's my fiance."

Blinking at him, Callius looked from him to Shell and back again. "This is going to be a very interesting administration, I can already tell."

"Did you know that the representation of Mara in Hammerfell has four arms so she can grab more husbands?" Gideon smiled, tearing a bite of cheese off and popping it in his mouth. "I think Telki may well be her Champion."

Shell snickered as the agent watched them passively a long moment. "I'm just going to go now and pretend that's normal," he said, waving his farewell and closing the hidden door just as the servants knocked on the official one.


	43. The Better Part of Valor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyr stared out over the ramparts of the White-Gold tower, hands dangling over the edge as wind as cold as any that had crossed a Skyrim mountain ruffled his hair. Down the walkway a bit, an Imperial guard swathed in winter wear kept giving him sideways looks, though he couldn't tell if it was because the man recognized him, didn't recognize him, or because Tyr had stomped out there in just the light tunic and vest Fey had urged on him that morning. He'd needed some peace to still his thoughts, and as much as he'd love to simply lose himself in watching his gorgeous wife laughingly show the twins how to spot spyholes and listening spots, and listening to Blossom and Orien come up with increasingly ridiculous ways to thwart them, he actually needed to work through his problems.

Emperor. His breath blew out in a huff, eyes pressing shut rather than roving over the houses of the thousands of people that lived in the city, all crammed together so they fit within the walls. He had no idea why they insisted on remaining right there when there was so much space outside them. He was half convinced it was the aesthetic. Maybe if some rings were added across the river, people would stop insisting the island was better fortified.

"You look stressed."

Turning his head slightly to look at the High Chancellor, he stayed where he was, letting the man come to him. That was something Ulfric did, he'd noticed. Let others come to him. It reinforced the idea that he wasn't there for their convenience, making them seek him out, rather than the reverse. If he wanted them, he'd send for them. A bit pompous, perhaps, when put like that, but he also had a lot to do, and half of it wouldn't get done if he spent most of his time chasing his court around.

"I spent the last few weeks hunting down assassins, had to rescue my children twice, flew to another country to yell at the most powerful people in it, and proceeded to get buried in paperwork. Why would I be stressed?" he groused, then paused. "Where do you get all the trees?"

"It's not all wood pulp," the man said, surprising him. "We had a bit of a shortage after Vallenwood ceded, but those that live along the coasts were quick to introduce us to dried kelp. I'm told the business has brought some small fishing towns back from the brink." Catching Tyr's quick frown, he scoffed a bit, "I'm High Chancellor, Imperial Highness, do you think I don't know the state of the Empire?"

Tyr said nothing, letting his silence speak for him, examining the other Nord as he tried to ascertain what the man wanted, seeking him out. Perhaps he had been getting some air as well, but he had still approached him.

Eirik looked out over the city. "I know the opinion on Imperial nobles in Skyrim hovers right around the sewage line on a good day," he said bluntly. "I can't particularly say I blame them. The Jarls are, on paper, equal to the Counts on the Elder Council, but there was no time to contact them when the White-Gold Concordat was drafted. It outlawed the worship of the patron god of the Northern Province, and the elves didn't always care to split hairs on whether a particular person was actually worshiping Talos or Shor of the Nordic Pantheon."

"You've been around Imperials too long," Tyr interrupted him. "Skip to the part I don't know."

"I am not a noble," Eirik stated needlessly; Tyr could tell that by the state of his hands. Those weren't writer's calluses. "I am High Chancellor only because I am Imperial Battlemage. High Chancellor is used more to cut down confusion."

"And the term 'battlemage' frightens people," Tyr observed, beginning to get a glimpse of what the other Nord was. A sabercat slumbering on the hearth with its claws hid in velvet paws was still dangerous, and it only took one fool forgetting that at the wrong moment for it to lash out. Like the sabercat, Eirik didn't quibble using what he was to get people to step softly, or to lure fools into revealing themselves.

"Just so," Eirik nodded, then added softly, "I never dreamed I'd be responsible for so many lives. It took a lot of adjusting."

"So why did you accept it?" Tyr asked, knowing he was supposed to.

"If I didn't, there was no guarantee the next person would. So many titles, and so few actual leaders," the Nord shook his head. "The previous High Chancellor was more interested in getting his way than serving the people. My Oath was to the people of this Empire, and not a day goes by I'm not reminded of it."

"And being part of a plot to kidnap my children?" Tyr asked idly, anger glimmering in his eyes. "How does that serve the people of the Empire?"

Eirik held his gaze a long moment before answering, not bothering to deny it. "The incident that left Mede heirless—for the second time, I might add—was no accident," he replied, "it was fate. We needed an Heir, yes, but we also need a leader. Marcus Mede was no leader, but he was what we had. The Thalmor would have crushed him, and the Empire along with him. The day we realized we either need to resign ourselves to that or find another path, we learned of you. And you, despite leading near eight hundred men to freedom, despite keeping order among them in a place designed to make them act like lawless animals, had no interest in ruling anything.

"Hate me if you want," Eirik said as Tyr stood, staring the man down with a mixture of fury and puzzlement, "Shout me off the ramparts if you want, but I will die knowing that you're here, and you're Heir, and the Empire has a chance again."

"Blossom and Orien told me you have a daughter," Tyr finally replied as the wind shifted, curling the Imperial banners around to face east. "Blossom tells me she's quite timid. How would you react if someone did to her what you did to my children?"

"There wouldn't be enough left of them to tell," Eirik said lowly, the muscles in his jaw shifting visibly as he ground his teeth.

"But you aren't sorry you stooped that that," Tyr pushed.

"No," the other man said. "They are unharmed, and you are here, so I regret none of it."

Eyes narrowing slightly as the pieces fell into place, Tyr resigned himself to working with the man for the time being. "Alright then," he turned back around, looking out over the city again, at all the lives now depending on him to be a good, just leader. He swore he felt his hair turning grey at the thought. "Anything else you want to manipulate me into?"

"I've told you what I want from you, Amulius," Eirik assured him, studying his expression and relaxing slightly. "Just rule them well, and keep them safe."

Nodding curtly, he glanced the man up and down. "And Altmer?"

"Depends on their allegiances, but I have no quarrel with your wife, though I do get the feeling she wishes to eviscerate me."

"Good instincts," Tyr said, turning and heading back toward the door. "I'm heading back to Windhelm for a while, Hubro: Try not to do anything else morally questionable while I'm gone."

.

* * *

.

"I thought you guys would never get here!" Shell exclaimed, popping out of the doorway Telki and Ama had just looked through, trying to find the exit they wanted in the veritable maze of the Tower. It was massive from the outside, but somehow, the inside seemed even larger.

"Just my kind of luck, it won't be the Isles that finally tip me over, but navigating this pile of rocks." Telki rubbed her eyes, "I know I have no sense of direction, but this place is ridiculous."

"My sense of direction works just fine, and this place still confused me." Ama put her hands on her hips, glaring accusingly at Shell. "How'd you learn your way around so fast?"

"Oh, that's easy," she replied brightly, in that tone that was impossible to tell if she were joking or not. "I can bypass walls by walking through a realm of Oblivion until I get to where I want to go."

Telki shuddered. "Be careful with that around here. Half the time, it reminds me of hallways in New Sheoth."

"Well, you're just in time," Shell said, linking her arms through theirs and pulling them forward. "Gideon is about to beat Callius into the ground while the other Penitus take bets and notes—if Callius isn't hiding, anyway, but we've only been here ten minutes or so. So far, I think they think I'm a strumpet, so I've been having a lot of fun."

"Oh? How'd the poor soul get roped into playing pell?" Telki patted her pouch reassuringly, it sounded like she might be needing it. Her brows drew down, " _Who_  called you a strumpet? Is that why Giddy's going to beat him black and blue?"

"No one  _called_ me a strumpet, not to my face anyway. And I'd rather they underestimate me for the moment. But mostly, it's because I'm ruining some servants' sensibilities and because I spent last night in his—a married man's—room." Shell shrugged.

"Rocked the foundations with reunion sex, did we?" Ama sounded positively delighted.

"You'd think these people never heard of group marriage before," Telki tisked, but her eyes were crinkled at the corners.

"Considering it's more common here than anywhere else but Orsinium, you'd think they'd be a bit more open-minded," Shell sniffed, leading them to the long bench she'd been posing on, distracting the Penitus members.

"So, who's the poor sap getting creamed?" Ama looked around for either a face too cocky, or one of a condemned man. She got a bit distracted by the sheer number of delightfully fit young men. "I should've crashed this party years ago." She hummed in appreciation.

"Giddy!" Telki had no eyes except for her sweet husband. He obligingly swooped her up in a spinning hug, complete with sugar shock inducing kiss, her favorite. "So you missed me even with Shell to keep you busy?"

"What man's heart can be happy unless all its pieces are there?" Gideon solemnly asked.

"Which of us is the bard again? I'm stealing that one."

The Penitus members stared quizzically for a moment, then looked at Shell in near-unison. She smirked and twiddled her fingers at them before turning her attention back to wistfully watching Gideon and Telki.

"Shell, get your shapely butt over here so we can show these guys what a happy pally looks like." Telki pushed him down on a nearby bench, happily sitting on him and making grabby hands at Shell, who obligingly skipped over with a flick of her skirts, kissing Telki's cheek as she sat. Gideon cuddled them both close and his eyes predictably closed in bliss.

"Now that's a happy pally." Telki leaned forward to whisper in Shell's ear. "How many brains do you think just broke?"

"Less than I'd like," the Bosmer sighed. "Do share your Commander Maro story with them at some point, though. Callius's carefully-hidden reaction was priceless and I want to see if the others are half as good."

"I could share it now, if you like? How long till this bout's supposed to start anyway? Where's the doomed man?" Telki patted Shell's arm, and addressed the Penitus gathered at large. "I hear you'd enjoy a true story about Maro and the Dark Brotherhood's demise?"

"I wouldn't mind it," a younger man said, coming over and trying not to stare at them. Ama, from her comfortable vantage point, snickered. She'd wished she'd brought a mead and snacks, the entertainment was priceless.

"Well, it all started when I woke up in some shack that looked like it'd been used as a butcher's shop…" Telki recounted the entire story with her usual flare, drawing even the more taciturn and skeptical into the story she wove. By the time she'd ended with throwing the hoods at Maro and telling him what he could do with them, the courtyard was full of howling laughter. Maro was known for being a bit of a stick in the mud, and picturing him trying to deal with this rather unorthodox Khajiit was amusing his men no end, especially when said Khajiit did a fine, if unflattering, impression of him.

"Should I apologize for being late or is everyone going to thank me for it later?" an Imperial man with brown-grey eyes and a slightly crooked, hawk-beak nose asked, coming into the yard and halting as he took in the scene.

"I think, right now, they might visit you while you recover from this bout, and maybe bring you flowers and treats," Ama offered from her cosy corner.

Callius shrugged, looking her over. "Well, my To Read pile has been getting dusty. I suppose I'm due for some healer-enforced bed rest."

"Eh, so long as you haven't insulted my soon-to-be sister, I'll share the good sobermead with you, and you can skip the bedrest, unless you were looking for a reason to sleep late tomorrow?" Telki gave him her best Not Happy look, which was probably undermined greatly by her Treenord perch.

"He's been a doll," Shell assured her, winking at Callius.

Telki looked him up and down, considering, then nodded. "Okay, Gideon, please don't break him, then." Her chair rumbled with good humor.

"As you wish, my heart." Gideon stood, still holding both ladies, and then set them gently on the bench offering them both a courtly bow. "My Ladies."

"My teeth ache suddenly," Callius commented wryly, watching them and rubbing his cheek with an exaggerated grimace.

"You're just jealous. I have two of the prettiest ladies on Mundas, and you've only a dusty pile of books to look forward to," Gideon teased, tossing him a staff he'd checked was sound and straight. He had a second one for himself he peered down and thumped against the ground. "Ready?"

Thinking a moment, Callius said, "Do you really want anything goes, or do you want some basic rules?"

"Rules are good," Telki piped up. "I do not want to be setting bones or trying to bind lacerations."

"In that case," the Imperial smiled slightly, as if he found something amusing about that, "just staves and bodies. No blades, no magic whatsoever, no poisons, and no enchantments. Seven minutes, or whoever is left standing. Anyone that sets foot outside the practice circle forfeits. Sound good?"

Gideon nodded. "That sounds good to me as well. Shall we?"

Ama gaily called from her corner. "Ready? Set? Go!"

Normally, in the practice ring, Gideon's opponents held back, going on the defensive and dodging his attacks if they could. Subconsciously, he'd expected Callius to do that as well. He didn't. Swinging the staff in a narrow arc, he slid inside Gideon's reach, bringing the hard length of wood down toward the Nord's shoulder, then changing the angle at the last moment to slide off Gideon's block, nearly landing a solid smack on his forearm.

Gideon, never missing a beat, raised an eyebrow at his sparring partner, before a beatific smile spread across his face. "This is going to be fun!"

"That's a new reaction, I have to be honest," Callius chuckled, making a few quick, testing strikes at Gideon's middle.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to find a decent sparring partner?" Gideon waved to his rather considerable six and change bulk.

"Enough chit chat.  _Lay on!"_  Ama called again. She wanted to see pretty men beating the crap out of each other.

"Never thought I'd meet a Khajiit that reminded me of my drill sergeant," Callius muttered wryly, dropping suddenly and hitting Gideon across the shins. Unlike lighter opponents, it did not do as intended and put him on his arse, though it did leave a rapidly bruising sore spot.

"I think this is how it goes," Gideon offered, sweeping Callius' feet. If he hadn't the audience present, he might be hopping on one leg and calling names to make Sanguine blush. Yet audience he had, both Shell and Telki watching. Shor only knew what tales Ama would be carrying, as well. He sometimes wondered why she hadn't followed the Bard path herself.

Apparently unbothered by the audience, Callius cursed, bending back and managing a handspring that had Shell whistling appreciably. She glanced at Telki and blushed, "What? Do you know how hard that is to do from that angle?"

"It's hard from that angle?" Telki teased back.

Shell rolled her eyes. "Okay, it's hard for people not commonly compared to boneless animals that might as well be classified as liquids."

"Pffft, like you're not compared to liquid yourself. I swear you're part Khajiit." Telki patted Shell's back consolingly.

"My father would have a minor coronary," she said dryly, watching Gideon and Callius dance around each other, both of them actually starting to sweat, concentration creasing their faces.

"Honestly sounds like he could use a little shaking up, if he's as…hidebound as I've heard." Telki's eyes were riveted on the two twirling dervishes. Every feint, every block, looked like poetry in motion. If she didn't know better, she'd almost think the smooth movements were choreographed.

"Anyone else want to see him against Talon?" Shell ventured, wanting off the subject. She tilted her head, frowning. Other than Ama and a few other thieves, she'd never seen anyone approaching Young One skill in their usual fighting style. Realizing there were others out there that could match them was disquieting.

"You'd have to spoon both me and Nala off the ground after." Telki sighed happily. "Totally worth it, though."

"I would happily cuddle you through a boneless session, Telki," Shell reminded her with a wink. It turned to a wince as Callius and Gideon managed to strike each other at the same moment, the crack of wood against flesh not pleasant. Even some of the Penitus flinched in sympathy pain.

Telki tisked. "I hope that only bruised."

"Hey, pretty boys, you realize you're at the six minute mark?" Ama called. "Somebody whup somebody already!"

"Not helping, Ama," Gideon pointed out, and saw his chance. Nobody ever expected the big man to go low. Taking it, Gideon slid on his knees under Callius' guard, and caught him bodily across the hips, and lofted him high and clear, sending him soaring over the boundary.

Twisting like a cat, Callius ground his staff just inside the circle, whipping around the pole to reverse his momentum, catching Gideon off-guard across the face with his feet and sending him stumbling back. The Imperial rolled on the ground, coming to a halt just before the opposite boundary marker.

"Are we sure  _he's_  not part Khajiit?" Telki asked Shell, who had gone quiet in that way she only did when observing and taking everything in to evaluate later.

"And Time!" Ama called, clapping enthusiastically for them both.

"So, can we spar again tomorrow? That was a damn fine fight!" Gideon still rubbed his jaw. He'd felt pushed to his limits, and found himself going just a bit beyond them. He was tired, sore, and felt like he'd accomplished something just keeping up with the man.

"Maybe not tomorrow, but I definitely wouldn't mind fighting you again," Callius's grin held a bit of an edge. "I think I'm getting soft."

"Don't let him fool you a bit, Callius. He'll be grousing like an old man tomorrow himself." Telki elbowed her way between them. "Here, both of you take a swig." She proffered the bottle first to Gideon. He gratefully took it and chugged it like water. She then offered one to Callius.

"I feel better," Callius admitted, shooting her an amused glance. "What is this I'm supposed to be drinking? Mother taught me never to take drinks from strangers," he added that last with a healthy dose of irony.

"Sobermead. Think of it as a health potion that tastes like a mead," Telki shrugged, "or a mead with the benefits of a health potion."

"Well, Gideon didn't die." Saluting them, he took a swallow, then bowed to Telki and informed her his birthday was coming up. She laughed so hard, Gideon had to hold her up.

"I'll have some just for you, then," Telki promised him, eyes still watering with mirth.

The sound of hurried footsteps heralded one of the Tower's pages rushing out, skidding to a halt and looking them over anxiously until his eyes fell on Callius. "Second-Commander! The High Chancellor is looking for you!"

"Second, huh?" Telki nudged her husband's ribs. "You certainly pick the most interesting sparring partners."

"Newly promoted," Callius assured her. "Was still quite lowly when you were sent off so rudely." Glancing at the boy, he asked, "What's Hubro want?"

"Er…I don't know?" the poor child said, looking surprised to be asked. "Just to get you."

"Tell him I'll be along in a few minutes, unless he wants me to smell like half a Legion," the Imperial replied, then grinned as the boy bowed almost in half and ran away again. "You can always tell the brand-new ones." Raising his eyes to Telki and flicking to Ama, he added, "If you ever need to find your way somewhere, best person to ask is a page."

"Best advice I've received all day," Telki playfully grumped. "Why couldn't someone have mentioned it before I got lost as a goose?"

"People can be so unhelpful when silenced with awe," the man agreed, accepting a towel from one of the cadets, who held another one up to Gideon questioningly. He took it gratefully.

"Ama, were you doing that thing again?"

"No, I think it was the Khajiit everyone saw hop a dragon to chase down a storm." Ama finally pulled herself away from her comfy corner to skip over and loop her arm through Shell's. "So, now what?"

"I think Gideon needs a bath, and then Mother was hoping we could all head back to Skyrim for a while, before they manage to completely bury Tyr in paperwork," she grimaced. "He's only been Heir for a day."

"I like this plan," Telki nodded.

"Should I stick around to keep an eye on things?" Ama's eyes were still very much on the Penitus around them. "I might be more use here than there."

"Don't have too much fun," Shell giggled, leaning in and adding just for her benefit, "And be careful. Some of them will try to get close to you for information."

"Funny, that's just what I was thinking," Ama whispered back just as lowly. She wiggled her eyebrows for exaggerated effect. "Now would I do a thing like that?"

"I'm sure you wouldn't," the Bosmer grinned. "Let me know what their faces look like if they find out who Gideon's 'Bosmer wench' is while you're around? I have a bad feeling I'm going to miss it."

"No worries. My impressions are to die for." Ama bowed theatrically. "Want to see my impression of a Cyrodiil lady?" Ama shifted her face to a dissatisfied pinch. "You call this  _fois gras?_ Why, it's not fit to feed livestock! Disgraaaaaaceful!" She drew the word 'disgraceful' in a familiar growl that made a passing page shiver.

"Alright ladies, day's wasting, let's get packed and back home, shall we?" With a well practices swoop, Gideon had both girls over a shoulder each. "Paladin express freight, at your service."

"These halls will never be the same again. Where do I sign up?" Ama laughed at their antics all the way back to the rooms.

.

* * *

.

Telki, Gideon, and Shell met Tyr and Fey coming down, trailed by servants that Tyr was trying to shoo away without being mean, unduly bossy, or using the  _thu'um_ (though that last option was seeming better and better). They all insisted they could come back to Windhelm with him to help pack, or that he needn't go back to Windhelm to pack at all, they'd provide whatever he and his wonderful family needed. He could already see the familiar gleam in Blossom's eye that meant she was feeling too crowded and threatened and probably shouldn't be put in arm's reach of anything sharp. It took an effort of will not to step closer to her so she could take the knife from his boot.

"Giddy! You found Sissy!" Orien cried excitedly. Instantly, all the twittering of the servants stopped. Six pairs of eyes bounced from Shell to Telki and back again, obviously wondering which was related, what exactly the relationship was, and how best to phrase it to the next person they gossiped with.

Shell slapped a hand over her face and groaned.

"He sure did, Orien, and now all these nice servants are going to respectfully clear out so the Royal Family can have a few moments of peace to reunite. Right, ladies and gentlemen? This way please, thank you for your care and discretion." Telki had rolled off Gideon's shoulder and had all the nosy servants bundled into a side hall while many of them were still wrapping their ears around the word 'sissy.' Almost as one, they turned puzzled faces to the closed door wondering just exactly what had happened.

"Telki, can I nominate you for sainthood?" Tyr asked tiredly. "I'm not sure how to keep us from being followed."

Shell couldn't hold in her snicker at the idea of what new rumors would run rampant when the entire family trudged off to a house of Sanguine and vanished for a week. Tyr gave her a puzzled look, then caught on, and gave her a red-faced glare that only made her laughter worse.

"I'm half tempted to just nip into a side room and have Telki sing for Rommy," he confessed, glancing around. "Do you think Talon could make a permanent bubble of 'stop spying on me' around me?"

" _Where oh where oh where's my Rommy? Where oh where, oh where's my Rommy? Where, oh where, Oh where's my Rommy, where can my Rommy be?"_  Telki decided why bother stepping to another room? They probably blocked more spying in the hall than any other. "And I don't think they'd let me in the Saints' club. I have to much fun. I hear they put a moratorium on that. Pretty sure you can't have daedra in the family, either." Telki winked at Tyr. "And, for the 'no spy on me' bubble, I'd get Nala curious about it."

A mass of butterflies came in the nearest window, glanced around, then sighed. "Let me guess, no privacy?" He hadn't even transformed yet, the butterflies all sighed it in hundreds of tiny, tired voices. Murril was riding one and waved to Telki enthusiastically. Telki couldn't resist, she kissed a finger and tapped Murril with it.

"Your Nordy grandson has developed a rash from the high concentration of nosy Imps around here." Telki huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "And get solid enough I can hug you already."

The butterflies sighed in unison and coalesced into Rommy. A thud was heard from behind the wall as whoever was spying fell over in shock. Looking irritated, Rommy waved a hand at the wall and erased the memory of everyone watching. "This is going to become monotonous really fast," he complained.

"I can imagine." Telki wrapped him in a soothing hug. " Are you okay?" She wasn't ashamed to admit she was more than a little worried for him.

"I'm fine," he assured her, folding her in his arms. "I'm still doing clean-up in the Isles, and some patching around the edges, but I think I'm good to spend a few hours with everyone."

"You sound worn out, Love." Telki snuggled into her favorite sconey smelling chest.

"Nothing that won't pass in a few days," he promised, then looked up. "Everyone ready to go?"

"Stendarr, yes," Tyr moaned. Fey shook her head and patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"Take us home, Handsome!" Telki's voice was a bit muffled from his chest area. She motioned with one hand for Gideon to come join the crowd around Rommy, and then happily slung herself between the two men, one arm around each waist. "Now, I'm happy."

Glancing around the number of people, Rommy took a deep breath, "Crowd in close," he warned, "I'm going to have to go to the Isles first."

"Anyone here got a problem with a stopover in the Isles?" Telki looked around, getting a bit sheepish at the look Gideon gave her. "No? Honey, I think we're all good."

Instead of turning to butterflies, the world shifted around them, turning quickly into the Great Hall of the Palace at New Sheoth. Anything they might have said was completely drowned by the gleeful cry of Fanny at Rommy's return and an equally happy Cicero to see the bloody-haired children.

"Have you stabbed anyone lately?" Cicero asked Blossom brightly, swinging her around.

"I stabbed a Penitus guy, but other than that they took my knives away," she told him ruefully.

Cicero pouted and put her down. "That wasn't nice of them. Dear, sweet flower girl cannot be without her daggers. Wait here, Cicero will fetch some for you."

"She can have them back when she becomes a little more discreet in who she stabs and why she stabs. Afterall, doesn't Mother require discipline and discretion?" Sometimes Telki amazed herself with what came out of her mouth. It worried her a bit she was becoming this proficient at Cicero Wrangling.

The identical pouts of two stab-happy redheads turned her way. Telki raised an unimpressed eyebrow, awaiting an answer. Cicero only added some tear-filled eyes to his pout.

Tyr shuddered, while Fey stared with wide, alarmed eyes. "Who exactly is this?" Fey finally managed.

"This is the Duke of Mania," Rommy said, rubbing his head.

"And who is  _this?"_ Cicero cried, skipping up to Tyr. "He has bloody hair just like Cicero and the darling children! And he's tall! And muscular!" He grabbed Tyr's arm and rubbed his face on it like a cat while the man froze, cheeks flushing so hard they skipped red and turned purple.

"Meet Tyrlief and Fey, their parents. Tyrlief is also Rommy's grandson. Tyr, Fey, this is Cicero," Telki offered.

Cicero's cuddling got a bit too much for Fey, who reached around and grabbed his hand, twisting it and shoving until Cicero had to let go, then darting in with her own dagger right under his nose when he went to velcro right back to her husband, eyes hard. "No," she said firmly. The Duke looked down at the dagger and back up to her in absolute adoration.

"And Fey speaks his language. I should have had her interpreting." Telki could hear her sister laughing at her all the way from Cyrodiil.

"I didn't know you had that," Blossom mused, sounding somewhat betrayed as she admired the slim elven dagger.

"That is, in large part, the point of it," Fey replied, stepping away from the Duke, the dagger vanishing in a way that revealed just where Shell had learned it.

"Riiight," Rommy drawled. "I'm going to go build a portal. If anyone needs anything—"

"Please build the portal later and just take us home now the fast way," Tyr begged. "If I have to deal with any more Imperials—no offense—I'm going to wind up your vassal."

"No offense taken, Bloody-Haired Muscles!" Cicero—also an Imperial—caroled in assurance.

"In Rommy's defense, the castle variety of Impie is a more virulent strain than the normal." Telki offered. "There's a reason he told his family to shove off." She could hear Gideon snicker next to her. She leaned into him a little bit.

"Fine," Rommy agreed tiredly, picking up Blossom and automatically putting her in his pocket with Murril, where she peeked out in complete astonishment while the little Altmer hugged her. Orien pulled on his sleeve until he put him in there too. "Huddle up, everyone."

"What, gonna put me in your pocket, too?" Telki teased. "'Bout the only way I'll get more huddled up." She squeezed her arm around him.

Rommy gave her an amused look before dropping them all in another familiar Great Hall, the ride slightly bumpy. "Who did I land on?" he asked, rubbing his rear and looking down. "Oh, hello, Galmar."

"Aren't you a bit big for pony rides, Romulus?" Galmar said, standing up and letting Rommy slide. "Hello little cat, tired of them poppinjays already?"

"Tyr was breaking out in hives. We had to bring him home, stat," Telki teased, letting Galmar pull her up and into a welcome bearhug. "How've things been here?"

"Grand," Sorcha replied for him, looking everyone over.

"Sorcha, do you have a job here yet?" Tyr asked her immediately.

"Um, no, not yet," she replied suspiciously.

"Please help me translate some of the reams of paper they want me to sign," he begged. Sorcha cackled.

"I can help," Rommy assured him. "I was taught all that stuff. Merc might be able to lend a hand, as well."

"As long as someone can point out when I'm selling my liver or my first born, I'd appreciate it," Tyr moaned.

"If you really agreed to be Heir, you've already signed away your firstborn," Sorcha pointed out, watching the twins and Murril as Rommy took them from his pocket and made them normal again. "Whichever one that is."

"Not sure," he and Fey said in unison.

"Ahem. You people are forgetting something." Telki tapped her foot, looking at them all as if they were slow students. "This is an opportunity, not the end of the world. Empire's broke? Okay, fine.  _Fix it_. Instead of an albatross around your necks, instead of letting the pencil pushers drive you bonzo,  _fix it_. If they're going to make you Emperor, be a flipping Emperor, and not their practice pell or marionette."

"I never intended to be a marionette, they just looked so lost and frightened when I said no more paperwork," Tyr said, looking a little lost himself. Sorcha cackled again, leaning against Galmar.

Rommy was examining them. "That your new wife, Gally?"

"Yep, dunno what she saw in an old warhorse like me, but I'm thanking my lucky stars." Galmar pulled Sorcha to him in a fond hug.

"Should I congratulate you or are you asking me to check her?" the Mad God asked archly. "I'm joking: Everyone here is insane. Congratulations."

"Changing your tune, huh? How many times did you say I wasn't crazy despite myself?" Telki budged under Rommy's arm, while still not relinquishing hold on Gideon.

"I am allowed to poke the Stormies," he reminded her with ruffled dignity. "It's part of how I put up with them."

Telki's eyes lit up with unholy glee. "And I get to do the same to the Impies, right?"

Gideon groaned. "Expect a lot of Saint and Seducer traffic in the Imperial city in the near future."

"Why are we still standing here? I has a Lucia I need to hug and maybe never stop hugging, and a Heron and a Sura."

"She's here," Sam called from the table where he was trying to explain fermentation to Frankie while Lucia wondered if she'd have to stop the conversation soon. The boy looked a little too fascinated.

"Luce!" Poor Lucia nearly smothered in Telki's hug. She hadn't even seen her mother move. "Are you okay? What happened? Who do I need to beat to death?" Telki had finally backed up to cradle Lucia's face and search her over for any sign of injury.

"Mom! Mom! I'm fine. I'm okay. He didn't hurt me. I put me there trying to stop him. And…I think he needs our help."

Telki felt a rush of conflicting emotions. Her daughter able to see another's need even when she herself had been wronged. Atavistic fear for her daughter wanting to hurt him for hurting her, but mostly maternal pride and gratefulness she was okay. "Tell me what you know, angel. We'll see what we can do."

Lucia sat back down, leaning back against Sam a little for comfort's sake. "Well, he's a Young One, isn't he? He didn't attack us because he wanted to, or because he agreed with the orders, and, last I saw him, he looked so lost, like he'd lost somebody and well, he stayed with me until he knew Sam was coming for me."

"Probably because he knew I'd punt him over to the Ash Pit and leave him there," Sam grumbled.

Lucia turned to Sam and gave him big puppy eyes. "Poppa, he acted like nobody ever's been nice to him. I just, wiped a tear for him and he acted like…like he didn't know what kindness was…that's not right."

"Wait, wait, wait," Shell interrupted, waving her hands in a warding gesture. "Are you telling me The Null is lost in Oblivion now?"

Lucia shrugged. "He left. I don't know where he went. He said he couldn't find her."

"Well, I just sent 'her' off to High Rock to start a new life as an advisor to a kid king, so she's still around to find, at least," Shell said sheepishly.

Telki was tapping her teeth in thought. "But does he know that? Does he have any way to know that? And what about the one that saved her? I don't like them being out there where other Young Ones can find them and take stabs at them again. Not until we can dismantle the network or whatever you call it."

"If we see him again, we can give him the news, at least," Shell sighed, dropping down beside Frankie. "He doesn't seem totally like a bad sort. He was trying to comfort Sura when I saw him, anyway. Only reason I didn't cut off his head."

Gideon folded his arms. "I remember how trusting you were of news. Do they have a similar passcode?"

"That was something my mother came up with," she shook her head. "Had anyone found out about it…it was just for us," she finished, looking slightly haunted, "in case something happened."

Telki rubbed her brow in frustration. "So, she's safe, but the two most likely to care about her have no way to believe she's safe…oh this is a lovely tangle."

"I imagine we'll be seeing them again," Rommy shrugged. "They've already taken the first steps toward reaching for their freedom, and they know we can provide it."

Telki nodded, still worried. "Yeah, let's hope that's what they come to us reaching for."

"Don't know why you're worried— _hic!—_ Sis," Sam said cheerfully, patting her on the shoulder. "You have more firepower than most armies."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sam, but fat lot of good firepower is when you're trying to save a hothead from himself." Telki sighed and patted Sam's hand.

"You can do it, Momma. You can!" Frankie reached up, wanting his turn. Telki sat down with him in her lap. His little warm body snuggled up to hers was heavenly.

"Thanks, Angel." Telki looked over Frankie's head at Sam, Lucia still snuggled into his side. "Soooo, how's fatherhood treating you now? Not as scary?"

"Yeah," Rommy said pointedly, "How's it treating you?"

"Hey! I didn't know!" Sam protested the look. "And I'm not the only— _hic!_ —one!"

Rommy's face went blank a moment, "What?"

"Telki's Bean!" the inebriated Prince announced.

"Sam! I wanted to tell him," Telki protested.

Sam looked from her to Rommy's pale, poleaxed expression. "Oh, you haven't told him yet? Whoo— _hic!_ —ps."

"Pretty much since I drug him out of his Sheoness, we've been going nonstop," Telki huffed. "Not a lot of time for world-altering news, no."

Lifting her to her feet without a word, he knelt in front of her, looking keenly at her stomach with a faintly panicked expression. "We've butterflied so many times in the last two days," he fretted aloud. "You've been in and out of the Isles, and we…" he went even paler.

"Betcha Bean's just fine." Telki ruffled his hair comfortingly, letting him see for himself.

He spent another long moment staring, before a relieved smile crossed his face. "Yeah, she is. Good job, Gideon!" he said, turning to look at the Nord.

"She?" Telki and Gideon spoke at the same time, sharing a wondering look between them.

Telki's gaze finally broke with Gideon's. She looked down and poked Rommy in the shoulder. "How'd you know so fast she was Gideon's?"

"Black hair is either him or Erandur, but she's frost resistant," he shrugged, reading the building blocks of life rapidly piecing themselves together, then squinted, "She's sucking on her tail."

Telki's eyes pooled. "She'll have a tail, dark hair, and she won't be bothered by the cold?"

He smiled up at her, seeming to glow from within, "She's got your eyes, Telki." Telki folded down into his arms, overcome a bit. He held her there, unable to stop smiling, then glanced up at Shell, "Something tells me Gideon might end up with more bloodchildren than the rest of us."

Shell's eyes went wide and she shook her head frantically, much to Sam and Sorcha's open amusement. Fey suddenly got a very alarmed look on her face when she realized she could be a grandmother in the next decade or so, and Tyr burst out laughing, pulling her in and kissing her cheek.

"I'm just waiting for you two to realize you're not out of the baby making business yet, yourselves," Gideon offered. It had taken him a moment to get himself together, and was so grateful for Shell's warm presence next to him.

They glanced at each other, but Fey shook her head with a little rueful smile. "It's possible, but unlikely. Altmer women generally don't have more than four children."

"Besides," Tyr teased, pointing to Shell, "That one is worth four or five in trouble alone."

"Hey!" she protested.

"And then you had to add Blossom and Orien," Telki offered from Rommy's arms. It was one thing to know what her little girl was going to be like, but to have it confirmed? She'd talk to Rommy about it later. Maybe it was a hormones thing, or a Sight thing. Either way, she felt it was a good thing, if only she could get her watering pot eyes under control. Oh goody, pregnancy hormones. At least she seemed to have dodged morning sickness.

"It seems I am the perfect child," Pearl said wryly, coming into the room after a guard had gone to alert her to her parents' return. Bacon trailed behind her, bobbing in the air, glowing green and honking unhappily.

"Bacon!" Orien's little face transformed in joy, dancing around until the horker was set down and he could snuggle her.

"You're not a child, Pearl, you're an Aedra sent to look after all these troublemakers. It's the only explanation." Telki tossed a thumb over her shoulder. "Look at poor Sam get all uncomfortable when you're around."

"That's entirely because I know what she'll look like when she's older," Sam claimed happily, then ducked at the look Fey shot him.

"Okay, let's get back to Hjerim. I have kids and spouses I must cuddle and hug, and we have plans to make, right?"

"And we," Tyr sighed, looking at Fey, "better go pack."

.

* * *

.

The knock echoing through the High Chancellor's office was rhythmic and strong, a familiar pattern that had the man glancing up from his paperwork and Cecily freezing on her bench.

"Come in," he called, lowering his eyes back to what he was reading, but readying a spell behind the thick document, just in case.

Callius slipped in like a shadow, smiling at Cecily when he spotted her. "Making anything good?" he asked.

She ducked her head back, lifting up the little embroidery hoop to show the line of not-quite even stitches she'd managed, peeking a large eye the color of molasses round the side to examine him curiously.

"Don't trust the new Heir, then?" the Penitus asked quietly as he drew closer to the desk, settling in the chair beside it.

"Oddly enough, I do," Eirik replied, much to Callius' surprise. He did, though. Amulius might come after him, but he'd be nothing but forthright about it. "His associates not as much. Do you have a report for me?"

"Lord Motierre handed in his resignation this morning," was the unsurprising reply. "Countess Carvain is heading back to Bruma. Supposedly she misses her husband. Lady Vici has retired to her estate outside the city, cursing at anyone that will listen about the Nordic invasion. The Honorable Dum Faustus has returned to his previous daytime routine of reading ancient law texts and bemoaning the future."

He very nearly sighed: he'd been so close to securing that those particular Councilors' withdraw from active duty. It had taken a lot of maneuvering of young Motierre to make him think he'd chosen Salonia and Alexia himself. Dum…Dum was an unfortunate lost cause, and had been for years. Anyone could manipulate Dum, which made him hazardous to the Council. "Have you found the mercenaries Salonia hired?" Eirik asked, melting wax onto the document beside his signature. Her carnal relationship with one of the members alone was enough to ensure her husband was the one at the next Council meeting, rather than the self-entitled Countess.

"No sign of them, either in the usual haunts nor in paperwork."

Pulling his seal of office from the hot wax, the Nord frowned. "This is the Empire, and that girl was Imperial to the bone. There is  _always_ paperwork."

"I took the liberty of asking Lady Carvain's middleman," Callius said, leaning back in the chair and crossing one leg over the other knee. "Apparently they showed up at her home just after he'd informed her that the mission had been blacklisted." He gave Hubro a vaguely disapproving look. "You know we would have done this for you, had you come to us."

"I've besmirched my honor, I will not sully yours," he said shortly, reaching up and grabbing another document. "I know your aim, Callius."

"And I know you," the agent said, sitting up and capturing the Nord's gaze. "Were it not for you, everyone in this city would be dead or worse. Were you to ask me to do something dishonorable for the good of the Empire, I would trust you actually meant it."

"Which is why I will never ask," the Nord replied. "Besides, you actually might have killed him. That was the last thing I wanted." He paused as Cecily came over, peeking out the window and drawing shapes in the fog her breath made on the glass. "I needed the Empire officially out of it. If Amulius was as vengeful as some reports suggested, it couldn't be the Empire he struck out at."

"You'd rather he struck at you?" Callius' near-sarcastic anger drew the Nord's gaze back to him.

"There were other targets, but if need be, yes," he said evenly. He smiled briefly at the agent's muttered oath, looking back at Cecily as she fiddled with an arrangement of winter-hardy flora some servant had thought would brighten the space. "Do you have anything else for me? I have much to do before I can leave today."

"Eh, not much. Just that I decided to make friends with that Paladin of Shor Amulius brought, and his fiance could probably sneak up and kill any one of us, myself included."

Eirik's head whipped around, giving the agent his full attention. " _What?_  Why?"

"A few reasons, but mostly because he's ridiculously honest and I have a feeling he might be useful in making sure Amulius stays that way," Callius snorted. "I'm not sure about the fiance, but he's married to the other Dragonborn, and she's also honest to a fault." After a moment, he added, "Are we sure dissenters and prisoners are all he brought back with him?"

"Find out what you can," Hubro sighed, feeling a headache coming on. "If she's neither dissenter nor spy, she might be a deserter. Stranger things have happened, but if you insist on allying yourself with them, be sure you know who you're dealing with."

"I'm insulted you felt the need to say that," Callius replied, rising from his chair and strolling towards the door in one lithe movement. "Been a pleasure, High Chancellor, as always. Good day, milady," he added to Cecily, who hid behind her father's desk.

"Father," she ventured after the door shut, tucking her little chin over the top of the desk, "was that man your friend?"

"In a sense," he replied, ordering the various stacks of paper before they became too muddled to tell what belonged to which pile.

"Sense?" she repeated, confused. "Friends close, enemies closer?" she added, repeating something he'd often said.

"Something like that," he agreed. "In this case, a friend is someone who tells you that they're using you, and why, and how. In government, that's sometimes the best you can hope for."

Cecily thought about that a moment. "I want to go home," she finally said.

"In a bit," he agreed. "I still have work to do, and the Empire comes first."

"Empire comes first," she sighed, hopping down and going to her bench. Puffing up the seat cushion, she curled up and settled in to wait.


	44. Our Remedies Oft in Ourselves Do Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heron's plan had been to say his goodbyes to Sura and leave before the rest of the house got up and made a big deal out of it. Unfortunately, Murril had been out of bed, looking for her Sparkles (and, unbeknownst to him, the Boy With the Funny Head, who she missed), and had seen him try to leave. She'd shrieked so horribly he'd thought she caught a murderer lurking before he realized she was pointing at him.

Of course, that had gotten everyone else up, and armed, and down the stairs before he could do more than pick her up and try to hug her quiet. He still was awkward at hugs, it seemed, but Murril clung on harder than the fox had.

"Let me guess, you thought you'd sneak off and bypass all the uncomfortable goodbyes?" Telki stood in the doorway, arms crossed and toe tapping an aggravated rhythm in perfect time to the lashing tail.

"Actually, I was hoping to bypass learning how to say goodbye," he shrugged, trying to pry Murril off him before giving up. "I asked Sura to pass on all my good wishes. And, you know, told her not to forget how to punch, since she might need it."

"Nope, sorry, the sucky thing about having people that care about you is all the goodbyes and bye hugs and the don't forget you're wanted here so come back sometime." Telki took the opportunity Murril provided to not only get her own hug in, but to ruffle his hair a couple good times. "I'm going to miss you, shug."

"Why?" he asked, honestly baffled. "You've known me a week."

Telki pulled him down so she could look him in both eyes. "Now you listen to me, and you listen good. You. Are. Worth. Loving. Don't you dare ever forget that, and don't let anyone tell you different. If you need reminders, you come home here."

A hint of laughter entered his eyes, "Yes, ma'am," he said, imitating the way he'd said it on his first morning there.

Telki studied him, worriedly. "I dunno, you worry me. Maybe we need to wait a few weeks until you actually believe me before I turn you loose."

"Heron! Your face! You look more Nordy than the SaplingNord; what happened?" While the words were teasing, Alesan looked concerned. There was even a worry frown between his brows like Erandur's.

"Eh, taking a dagger to the face will do that," Heron shrugged. "Sura managed to save the eye, though, and Talon made it so I can even see again—blurrily, but there." He paused a moment. "I kinda like it," he admitted sheepishly. "People don't stare at me quite so much."

"Mayhap now the Guard won't haul you in for simply asking directions. You will stay safe?" Haffod still felt conflicted, but not so much he'd be happy to see Heron's back. Since the children had stayed mostly in the Palace of Kings, and Sura and Heron had been convalescing at Hjerim, it was his first chance to see the other teenager, and now he was running out the door.

Erandur spoke. "I know you wanted to do this on your own, but Skyrim's not so safe yet that travelling alone is a good idea. There's a caravan headed towards Whiterun. They're short a guard."

"I'm good for that," he said, relaxing a bit, "Especially after Momma Cat gave me this pretty sword," he added, winking at Telki.

"Like I'm sending one of mine off with shoddy gear," she sniffed. She'd used up a good bit of her enchanting stores to make sure he had the 'basics:' Armor that would protect him better than the Skyforge could provide, and looked like modest travel leathers. He now owned a dragonbone sword that looked like simple steel nicely maintained, and a knapsack enchanted into a bag of holding.

"Still odd to hear that," he said, glancing downward to hide his eyes. "I mean, Dessnia referred to us as 'hers,' but with a totally different meaning. You both take in strays, and give them a place, but…" He shrugged. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I wish she were like you, and actually worthy of the love she demands."

Telki's lip wobbled, and then she was hugging the boy for all she was worth. "No fair tellin' me something that sweet when I haveta let you go!"

Erandur and Gideon both pried her loose. "Telki, love, you're making him turn red."

"Sorry, sorry, I'll be good." She wrapped an arm around each husband just to make sure she kept that promise. "Sorry Heron."

He was laughing slightly, lifting one hand to touch his blushing cheek. "Novel sensation," he remarked, then dropped his arm to survey them all. "I'll write, when things are settled," he promised on a whim. "If nothing else, I need to make sure these two are treating my teammate well," he added with an arch look at Alesan and Haffod. They shared an eyeroll between them. While they had no doubt Heron was capable of hanging both boys by their own guts, all involved knew neither Haffod nor Alesan were the sort to need threats to treat a lady with respect.

Telki grinned widely from her husband sandwich. "Tell you what, for every letter you write me, I'll write you back an update. Sound good?" Telki wiggled her eyebrows. "There's bound to be slow, boring evenings with the caravan."

"I don't know: I was starting to learn Ta'agra before I left Alinor. I might see if there's someone willing to finish my lessons on the way," he said.

"Write me. Often. I'll teach you all the fun words and phrases first."

Grinning in a way that shouldn't be legal for a few years, he rattled off a phrase that roughly inquired if she wanted to go behind the wagons. "I already know the interesting ones."

Gideon raised an eyebrow, and started a reply that roughly translated. "No way in hell," while Erandur finished with "and over your dead body."

Holding up his hands, Heron assured them, "I was just demonstrating. As I told the Daedric Prince of Heroism, I'm a flirt, not stupid."

Telki tisked. "You should have gone for the colorful insult metaphors. Those are so much more imaginative. Translating them to common they lose some of their punch."

A rather rueful expression crossed the boy's face. "I'm good on insults, too," he said, reaching into his pack and pulling out a wriggling fish that took one look at Erandur and promptly started yelling.

"You again! You ash-colored netch-herder! Why I oughta—"

Heron shoved the fish back into the bag before it could continue. "I was told they were traditional parting gifts."

"Yep." Telki didn't trust herself just then to say more. Her chin wobbled again suspiciously. Rommy'd accepted him as family. He'd be okay.

"Well," Heron said, looking them all over awkwardly. "How does this work?"

"You mean saying 'goodbye'?" Erandur asked gently.

"Yeah, that," the boy shrugged uncomfortably, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Mostly, awkwardly." Gideon shrugged. "Tears, repeated hugs, don't forget to write, and remember your way back eventually."

"Ah…Mind if I just say 'see you later' and head out the door then?" he asked hopefully.

"I suppose." The heavy sigh that shrugged even Gideon's arm wrapped around Telki's shoulders required no pretense.

Erandur chuckled, patting Heron on the back. "Travel safe, and I hope you find what you need."

"I'm finally going to find my parents," he reminded them with a great deal of humor, "I'm not going off to war."

"Look kid, I just got you back from a scary kidnapping, I'm hopped up on pregnancy hormones, and dealing with the realization my kids are getting old enough to leave. Work with me here."

Heron looked down to where Murril was trying to climb in his bag after the fish, picked her up, and handed her to Telki. "I believe you refer to them as moppets? Have a moppet."

A watery giggle escaped as she wrapped Murril in a bearhug. "Yes, moppets, rugrats, kiddles, and munchkins."

"Write me and let me know what they're all doing," he instructed firmly, trying to reroute her overflowing maternal instincts long enough to get out the door. "If you start crying, I will feel very badly."

She slid a sly eye his way. "Promise to answer them?"

"Cross my heart and hope to live," he said, quoting Blaise.

"Scoot before I start bawling and wrap you up in a fuzzy blanket or something. That caravan's leaving today." Telki had her nose buried in Murril's hair.

"Don't do anything Shor wouldn't do!" Gideon called merrily after him.

"I've been reading that book," he said, turning quickly but pausing at the door to lift an eyebrow at the Paladin, "and that's not a whole lot." Seeing Telki's expression start to fall again, alarm crossed his face and with a hasty, "Bye," he was gone, door swinging shut behind him.

Alesan nudged Haffod in the ribs. "You know who else is going to need distraction right now?"

"Aye. It's probably best. I think things are about to get awkward in here." Haffod and Alesan beat feet for the sitting room with Sura in it just as Telki started getting extremely clingy to everyone in reach.

Sura was sitting in front of the fire, the basket of mending that had become practically an extension of her beside her, hands strangely idle in her lap as she stared into the flames, looking lost. The sight brought both boys up short, exchanging a quick, helpless glance.

"Hey, uh, Sura?" Haffod stood awkwardly in the doorway, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"Y'know, I talked to Shahvee the other day. She said, since you were so good with needle and thread, you'd probably learn the loom easy. We could take you to her shop if you wanted?

Firelight glinted off her damp cheeks as she turned to look at them, a wan smile crossing her face. "Maybe later. I know the loom, though: Papa was a tailor."

"That's fine, I think she was wondering if you'd like to apprentice," Alesan offered, sitting down across from her. Haffod shuffled in and took the other chair. "Since her shop opened, she's barely keeping up with orders."

Thinking about that a moment, she nodded. "If Telki wouldn't mind. I pretty much finished all the mending and darning, though it looked like Sofie wanted to learn the latter. She couldn't stop laughing about the darning egg. I'm not sure why," she finished with a shrug.

"Telki would only mind if it was something you didn't want to do," Haffod promised her. "We can make sure on our way out. It might help her, too."

"What's wrong with Telki?" she asked, eyes widening.

"The new baby's making her uh, more erratic than usual," Alesan explained, scooping her up. Haffod grabbed her cloak and draped it around her.

"That doesn't make sense to me, but I'll take your word for it," she assured them, hesitant smile starting to bloom. She wasn't happy about her ankle needing longer to heal, but she wasn't unhappy that they'd be carrying her around a bit longer, though she couldn't precisely say why she enjoyed it so much.

"It'll explain itself in just a few minutes," Haffod promised. They could hear them in the front room, two soothing voices and one full of tears. There in front of the great hearth, Erandur and Gideon had Telki sandwiched between them. Telki was still holding Murril like her personal teddy bear. Apparently, they were having to talk her through every worst case scenario.

"But what about a Falmer attack, huh? You know those little tosspots attack caravans! An' Heron's eye still isn't quite right, what if they get him?"

"Heron can blindfight," Sura put in, having an answer for that. "They taught us in the dark."

"He can? They did?" Telki sat up, trying to dry her eyes. She felt silly about her tears considering Sura had more right to be upset, but was clearly handling it better.

The girl nodded, "I'm not sure what a Falmer is, but Heron can take care of himself. I'm not worried."

"If only I could convince the mood swings." Telki eyed them up and down. "Okay, Alesan's playing chariot, and you have your heavy cloak. What are you darlings up to?"

Haffod decided to speak up. "Shahvee is looking for an apprentice to help her catch backorders up. Sura's father was a tailor, and taught Sura the loom. If it works out, Sura could be Shahvee's new apprentice."

"Awww! That's wonderful!" Telki bounced. "I worried you'd get bored, that is, do you want to be Shahvee's apprentice? You don't have to if you don't want to, you know."

"I like stuff like that," Sura offered with a hint of shyness. "Even if I just become her assistant and help her out when she's busy. Oh, and I hemmed your green dress. Did you know it was growing flowers?"

Telki could only shake her head. "No, but I'm not surprised. What kind?"

Looking very doubtful, Sura admitted that she wasn't sure, but that they were purple and changed shade from moment to moment.

"Ah, those." Telki cleared her throat and looked a bit flustered. "Rommy made those. He really should name them."

"How about confused?" Sura suggested facetiously.

"You have no idea how apropos that is," Telki snickered.

"Much like their inspiration." Erandur had to add. Gideon almost caught his guffaw, but it escaped anyway. Telki narrowed her eyes at the both of them. A change of subject was needed.

"Go, see Shahvee. Tell her I say 'hello,' and have some fun for a change."

"But not too much fun," Gideon amended. At Telki's glare he clarified. "I do not want a repeat of Alesan's dock escapade."

Telki's eyes welled again. "My little boy's getting so grown now!" She beat a hasty retreat to her bedroom, while Erandur followed.

Gideon sighed. "Be home by lunch? I'm going to see if a bit of tea might help settle her nerves."

Sura glanced at the boys with alarm.

"Let's go see an Argonian about a loom," Alesan held Sura lightly in his arms, while Haffod held the door and bowed to Sura as she passed.

"My lady."

Blushing, she smiled shyly at him, then up at Alesan, feeling decidedly happy for someone who just lost their last teammate. Maybe she really would be alright.

.

* * *

.

Dessnia lounged back in her bed, sipping from a crystal goblet as she regarded the glimmering communication runes on the obelisk of quartz resting on the table before her. She hadn't been able to contact her little blue-eyed Redguard pet again, and it was beginning to bother her. It was looking more and more as if he had perished with the ship, just as he had predicted. When he'd contacted her with news of the Dragonborn's Daedric connections, she'd been certain his mind was going, that the regression had crippled the wits she had actually begun to admire in the young man. And yet, there wasn't much else that could have wreaked the absolute havoc that had ripped through the Imperial City's harbor that day. Reports were still pouring in from her agents, and with each account, worry amongst the Justiciars grew.

She snorted, lifting the goblet and licking the ruby drop from her lips. Fools. She had lived long enough to know that no Daedric connections would help for long, not against organizations their size. People rose up against Daedra with a fury otherwise reserved for Sload, knowing that ignoring such a threat risked the existence of the world itself.

Dessnia wasn't overly worried about it. She was more concerned that her son had come home, demanding to speak with her. Isordiil had become intolerable these last few decades, with his notions of honor and service, though truthfully she'd never had much use for the boy other than to silence the demands that she pass on her Pure bloodline. Purity passed, duty done, she'd handed the child off to his wetnurses and moved on to other, more interesting, pursuits.

One of them had, at long last, given her what she craved. Power, adoration, a way to ensure she received the respect and fear she deserved. Her lids shadowed her umber eyes as her gaze slid back to the set of inner rooms where her collection of young human and elven men were kept while she trained them, taught them the obedience they so desperately needed. Most of them would be courtesans, but she branched out to her agents and thieves from time to time. Her agents didn't let anyone actually  _un_ attractive in her ranks, after all, and despite what some of her more reserved colleagues loudly insisted, there were some truly beautiful humans. She was more than a bit miffed at the necessity of letting that courtesan Nord go. He had been exceptionally beautiful, and his manner of leaving before she could cement him to her had infuriated her in a way she normally would have punished him severely for. He'd proved strangely resistant to her ordinary methods—she couldn't quite grasp what it was he yearned after. Of course, he'd never get it now. The way he had weakened her and left her very bed…

Her hand flexed, and the goblet shattered.

The girl attending her rushed forward, cleaning up the mess and Healing her hand before Dessnia had even fully registered what she'd done. She considered the plain little thing a moment, pleased to note the blunt, human features set her angled beauty off nicely. If she was always this competent, perhaps Dessnia would allow her into her service full-time, rather than with a team.

"Milady?"

The girl let out a slight, strangled squeak as Demeus stopped in the doorway, waiting for permission to enter. "I have returned."

Her eyebrows lifted. "You had me worried, pet," she admitted, lifting her hand slightly in a beckoning gesture. "I thought you had perished."

"Nearly so, milady," he said, coming and kneeling beside the bed, like a good dog. She liked that about Demeus; he never assumed he was welcome on the bed itself.

"And the rest of your team?" she asked, then glanced sharply at the little plain human, who was staring at her pet with open admiration. The girl paled and looked away in panic, her eyes alighting anywhere else.

"Our fighters disappeared after the ship was destroyed. The Null shifted when given the news about our former courtesan, and has not sought me out since. I am forced to conclude that he may never return."

Dessnia sighed, trailing the sharp tips of her long nails along his face. "Ah, pet. You're lucky you look so handsome giving bad news. This face of yours was made for solemnity. However, I'm afraid with such a failure on your hands, I cannot grant you having your sister on your new team."

"I did not expect it, milady," he said, surprising her with speech. She'd expected him to be silent with such a blow, and frowned minutely, wondering at this slight change in him.

"If not to beg for the boon you lost, what has brought you to my side? To ask for pardon you know I cannot give?" she allowed some displeasure to color her tone, whipping into his conditioning like acid.

"I came to tell you of what I have learned," he replied, ice blue eyes holding hers in a way that made her unaccountably nervous. Taking her sudden silence as indication to continue, he rose without permission, jerking his head at the girl to leave.

The dull thing fled like he'd drawn a blade. Dessnia hissed her displeasure at him. "Only I can dismiss my servants," she reminded her pet, rising slightly from her relaxed posture. "You're forgetting yourself," she began, starting for him.

Demeus regarded her with a hooded expression and yanked the drape from the window.

Sunlight poured into the room, reaching out golden, burning rays as if searching for her. She shrieked, falling back as fire coursed through her, glaring balefully at the Redguard across the expanse of golden beams.

"Heron's escape was a fascinating tale," he said conversationally, examining her. "I wondered how he did it, and finally twisted his arm into telling. It never made sense how you convinced me to bring my siblings back here, when I hated my mother so very much for selling me into this life. Every time I thought on it all I could remember was your eyes boring into mine. Even without my memory, the idea of anyone seeing the strange scars all over my chest filled me with shame and anger."

"You arrogant imbecile," Dessnia hissed, falling back further as he reached across the window, right where the light was brightest, and ripped another curtain from its pole. "I'll tear you apart for this."

"Perhaps," he said, "but the boy that gave me the idea is out of your reach, as is his remaining teammate, and soon my brother and sisters will be as well."

"What are you—" Dessnia broke off with a gasp, stumbling forward as the paralytic took hold, weakening as she collapsed forward into the sunlight, smoke rising from her skin, her flesh a riot of pain around the silver dagger in her side. She could see just enough to hiss at the Argonian stepping from the shadows that had sheltered her.

"Is this sufficient proof, Lord Isordiil?" the Shadowscale hissed respectfully, and to Dessnia's horror, her boring, dutiful son stepped into the room from her pets' quarters, looking solemn and disillusioned.

"Quite enough, Lizard, thank you," he said, closing his eyes against the sight of his mother smoking in the sunlight. "I hope you both will forgive me for my earlier mistrust. It is a difficult thing, to believe such a thing of one's own mother."

"I can sympathize," Demeus assured him, watching the Altmer cross the room to look down at the creature that had held him and countless others thralled for far too long. "What are you going to do now?"

"She has passed far beyond my ability to judge her misdeeds," he said, unable to look at Dessnia anymore. "If you could please make her immobilization a bit more sure, she will be taken to the Priests of Auriel. They have a special cloister for women that need peace and contemplation to live out their days. She will be walled in with only the sun and starlight for company, looking out through a grate no bigger than my hand. I used to think such a sentence harsh…" he shook his head gravely. "There is no way to possibly reverse the dishonor of your stories, and the poor souls in that room…" The mer looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Can you do anything for them?" Lizard asked after a moment.

Isordiil sighed. "I'm unsure. I will give them to the Priests, as well. Perhaps something of them can be salvaged, with time. Meanwhile," he grimaced, "the other Justiciars will not be pleased that I have disrupted their information network. I suppose I'll have to take the reins of it now."

"You're going to keep us?" Demeus asked, surprised. The lord had turned an unflattering shade of green when first told his respectable mother kept such an unscrupulous hobby.

Shaking his head in denial, Isordiil winced. "The network, yes, but you will no longer be, what did you call it? Young Ones? Might as well just call it slavery and be done with it," he finished angrily.

"There are many types of enslavement, my lord," Demeus reminded him, kneeling to rap his former mistress behind the ear, knocking her unconscious. Rolling her over, he plucked the large ruby she had used as her focus from the center of her necklace. Dessnia was quite theatrical; she'd simply moved the stone from setting to setting, never letting it leave her. "This connects us all with the Soul Cairn," he said, watching the man's eyes widen in horror. "There are many ways to create, train, and manage Young Ones. What we all have in common is that each of us is Soul Trapped. We can earn our way out of that fate, if we perform well enough."

Taking the thing gingerly, as if it sickened him to touch it, Isordiil shuddered as he felt the connection pass to him, filling him with power he hadn't asked or bargained for, and decidedly didn't want. He was devoted to the Aedra, and the energy made his skin crawl. "In that case, you all have performed admirably, and served long enough. Stay if you will, leave if you will, no one will stop you, but I release you from this bond. If I have to work day and night I—" he stumbled into Liz as the power suddenly cut off. "What happened?"

"That was all that was needed," Liz informed him wryly.

"Apparently you have your mother's sense of the dramatic," Demeus offered, daring to tease the long-faced mer. He was rewarded with a sour look.

Leaving the new High Lord to sort out his mother's mess, Demeus and Liz strode to the entryway, starting down. They passed the attendant on the stairs, tears coursing down her cheeks and thanking them earnestly. Awkwardly, they continued on, exchanging glances.

"They're not all going to be that relieved, you know," Lizard warned him.

"They're a bunch of thralls to an ancient vampiress who we weren't allowed to kill. I don't expect gratitude much at all," he snorted.

"Are you going to go back?" she asked lightly.

Demeus thought about it, then shook his head. "I don't deserve their forgiveness, and I have a bad feeling his lordship is going to need a great deal of looking after in the coming weeks. Whether he wants Young Ones or not, he has them now. I think he'll be a better master than Dessnia, though. You?"

"I might go seek out Malero, find where he's gotten to," she said thoughtfully. "He's probably started looking for Orchid as soon as he felt the difference." She hissed a laugh at his look, "You really think he'd execute the baby sister he ruined his face for? After that?" she shrugged. "I've been away from the Hists long enough. It is time I became a true Argonian."

They paused at the door to the outer walkway that wound around the Spire. "Farewell, Liz," he said.

Her jaw dropped in a hissing smile, "Good luck, my friend. I hope to see you again someday."

Demeus nodded, still unable to say the word, but for once allowing his eyes to say it. Liz started down the steps, a moving shadow amid the brilliant rays of sunset, shining back up off the ocean. He looked out over the calm water, closing his eyes long enough to find that little piece of himself that was disjointed, the boy that had risen in him all too briefly, rediscovering friendship and family. In time, he would fade, and Demeus would return to how his conditioning had made him, the taciturn adult that thought through every decision, rarely speaking except when needed, who had killed his own mother and brought his siblings into the hell he had been sold into far too young.

Finding the barrier between that personality and his own, he dissolved it, reclaiming what he used to be, what he could have been. Neither the cold adult nor the hotheaded youth would continue now, but someone new, merged of the two. Opening his eyes to see surprisingly little time had passed, he reached up and wiped the moisture from his cheek, sitting right there on the landing and, for the first time he could remember, just watching the sun set.

.

* * *

.

Malero sighed in resignation, hands on hips as he shook his head, staring at what remained of the upper agents of the communication network in Cyrodiil. "Just how much does that man know?" he asked aloud, not expecting an answer from the corpses. Still, that he'd found them at all sent a pretty clear message. He refrained from leaving any traces lest he inadvertently leave one of his own.

Well, that was a bust. Heading out into the city streets, keeping his hood up so no one spotted the scar, he wove through the dilapidated buildings of the warehouse district and wondered what to do next. When the ship had disintegrated, he'd watched from the shore, already out looking for where Orchid would manage to emerge. She would, he knew. His sister was the most stubborn creature he'd ever met. If she didn't…well, she'd have eternity to be ribbed about it when he joined her in the Soul Cairn.

He'd thought it was goodbye. Thinking she was dead, she might have a shot, if Malero could sneak her soul gem away before anyone noticed it hadn't phased to the Ideal Masters. Then the ship had been ripped apart, and his team most likely dead, and there didn't seem to be much of a hurry to get anywhere. Malero didn't want a new team. He didn't want to train a bunch of youngsters to die at a moment's whim or be thrown in with his elders that looked at him as an intruder. If he could find Orchid, he'd take them to a Temple somewhere, and see about removing that Soul Trap. If they couldn't...well, at least they'd be together before they were discovered and the link used to rip their souls down to the Cairn.

Popping back down to the docks, he paused, sliding back into the shadows as a pair of smugglers discussed the wreckage. If they saw him, they wouldn't pause to ask if he had heard anything, they'd just try to silence him. At the moment, he didn't want the attention, so he slipped in close enough for their murmured conversation to turn into words, intending to move around them. He wasn't expecting to hear about a strange group of people finding a half-drowned noblewoman.

The first was down before Malero left the shadows, the second before he could turn. Pulling the poisoned knives from each of them, he trussed them up before they could awaken, dragging them deeper into the maze of crates and rocks that made this such a den of crime.

"So," he said with false cheer as they started to move again, eyes wide and furious as they took him in, "Tell me more about this strange group you saw."

.

* * *

.

Murril was looking around with avid curiosity, pointing and cooing at shark and fish alike as they descended through the depths of the sea around the Shivering Isles. Ruins dotted the sea floor, the former Realm of Order, of which the Isles of Maddness were all that remained. Like the Palace at New Sheoth, they were laid out with mathematical fanaticism, even after untold kalpas of wear.

Of course, the presence of their lord might have something to do with that.

The ward he had around them shimmered with rainbow colors, attracting various fish to come nibble. Unlike the rivers of the Isles or closer to the shore, none of them hollered insults, but murmured secrets, little building blocks of how the world was made and structured that even Hermaeus Mora didn't always know.

As they approached a massive structure, a spike of crystal hollowed to make a fortress, other beings started to appear. Rommy examined them, peering at their minds without intruding. These were new, something they had devised between them when those whose mental instability was in the form of constant patterns, organization to the detriment of their lives, started wandering to the coast and counting the waves, the sand, the sunsets, until they starved or wandered into the sea. Human, mer, daedra, they mingled, their forms warped to survive their new realm, their minds expanded so that they could see the Order in the seemingly random patterns of their new home, the mathematics of the curl of a wave, to keep them from wandering back to the Isles.

Sinuous forms surrounded them, guided the ward with webbed hands, examining and marveling at the structure and the curls of energy. Murril gaped at them with delight and Rommy smiled slightly. They were happy. This form of pedantic madness had never found peace in either the Isles or Nirn, unable to see that what they perceived as chaos in the world around them had a rhythm to it, sense and order that their minds were simply too limited to grasp.

The newly made race of daedra pressed the ward through a sideways wall of water into the windows of the crystal spike, and Rommy dissolved it, glancing down at Murril as she took in the radial patterns of the crystal structure, the way the rooms were precisely edged and laid out, the reflections set to perfectly distribute light and sound so that it was impossible to intrude without the builder knowing.

"Recognize it?" he asked her. She nodded, grinning, and he sighed. "That's what I was afraid of."

"Lord Romulus," a Seducer in a carefully pressed mage robe with a faint air of uniform approached. The few Saints and slightly more Seducers that had followed Jyggalag never referred to him as Sheogorath, the name apparently having negative connotations for them. Despite what most in Nirn might think, daedra were not invulnerable, it was simply that when they were horribly damaged in Mundus, they returned to Oblivion. In their home realms, they could be hurt and killed, traumatized and abused, just like a mortal. He suspected these former guardians of Mania and Dementia had suffered somehow in their duty, but never asked, not wanting to distress them. "This is an unexpected surprise."

"To everyone?" he raised an eyebrow.

Murril had wiggled down and approached the Seducer, looking her up and down uncertainty, unused to the feel of her. The constant sense of battle-readiness, the well of emotions all his daedra possessed was muted, leaving only a deep sense of calm. It saddened him that she had felt the need to leave the Isles—sometimes, calm was exactly what his subjects needed most. He made a quick decision to find if there were more like her, and start differentiating them. Perhaps if she hadn't felt the constant need to defend herself, she wouldn't have fled the Isles.

The Seducer was looking at Murril quizzically and with just a touch of fear. "She is fascinated by?" she asked, glancing up at Rommy, her blue-black braid swinging with the movement.

"She's not used to seeing a Seducer so well-clothed," he supplied, coming over and taking Murril's hand. "Jyggalag around?"

"Yes," she said, taking a step back from the mad girl and leading them further into the spike.

The rooms had changed since the last time he was there, different patterns and sometimes colors of crystal forming different acoustic structures, almost decorative. "He's been busy," he noted.

"There are multiple purposes to everything he makes," she said, a warning as much as a comment.

Rommy's eyes pressed shut a moment, the words cutting like a lash. "What's your name?" he asked her finally.

"I did not care to give it," she replied without so much as a stutter in her pace.

"I'm not here to drag you back," he said softly, seeing the flinch along her shoulders, "I'm not invading or trying to infect this place."

"You have brought madness here," she said tightly, stopping outside a set of doors twice as tall as she was. They would have to be to fit Jyggalag easily.

"She's been here before," was all Rommy said, taking in the quizzical, worried look the daedra shot the little girl.

"This is where I leave you," she said after a long moment. "He's beyond these doors," she said, hurrying off.

Rommy frowned after her, wondering just what had happened to her in the Realm of Madness for her to fear even Murril, or if it was simply the effect of seeing a shattered mind after so long. He sincerely hoped all the daedra here weren't like that. Putting it from his mind for now, he pressed a palm to the door, the crystals inside rearranging momentarily at his touch. The door opened, and the crystals snapped back into alignment.

To anyone who didn't know him, it would appear the Daedra of Order was staring out over his watery Realm with his hands lightly clasped behind his back, perhaps lost in thought. The Daedra of Madness knew that he was working on his Realm, watching the powerflows around the older Daedra in a way he'd learned from Telki, finally able to put some expression to things he'd been able to sense since his Curse.

"You normally wait for me to come to you," Jyggalag said without turning.

"I didn't know specifically where you were. I thought maybe you made an island somewhere out here that you'd warded me from finding," Rommy confessed. "Had to bake more sweetrolls for the barracks than should be physically possible to get the Girls to tell me exactly where you went. They  _really_ didn't want me to come."

"You gave them sugar?" Jyggalag asked in as close as he came to alarm, turning quickly and halting, icy eyes catching on Murril, who slid behind Rommy. "Ah."

"Yeah," Rommy replied, "'Ah.'"

Jyggalag walked over to the single table in the room and sat, gazing at the girl. "Your questions?" he prompted.

"Oh, no. None of that. Father used to do that," Rommy said with disgust. "Probing how much I knew so that he didn't have to tell me the whole truth. You're not my father, and you don't get that luxury."

For a long moment, the other Daedric Prince examined him, fingers clasping around one knee as he considered the pair. "You were dying. You had taken my Curse and my power of chaos, but you had not healed. Decades after the Greymarch, and you were sinking further into the persona and personality of Sheogorath. The human hero you had been was all but gone. I could not fathom why. When I sank into the waves I thought you had accepted your role, and you had."

He paused, collecting his thoughts. Rommy could almost see them clicking into place, a line of puzzle pieces interlocking. "Then the Realm was rocked by Aedric energy. A blast I had never felt before. I had no quarrel with those that lost the ability to travel Oblivion by tying themselves to a new reality, and was confused. There was no reason for an attack.

"It was the Divine Crusader. She had broken through the Veil to rescue you."

Rommy froze, feeling his chest constrict. "Nydia?"

"I am uncertain still how your sister discovered where you had gone. She burned a path of light from her portal to the Palace at New Sheoth, scattering everything that might challenge her. And Sheogorath went to discover who was invading his Isles."

Nauseous with trepidation, Rommy dropped into the other chair. Murril climbed into his lap and cuddled him, unsure why Daddy was so shaken but not liking it one bit. The lump in his throat made speech difficult. "Did I hurt her?" he managed after a long moment.

"Not permanently. You battled. You were weaker then and she was able to match you. Her helmet was destroyed, and her face triggered your memory. In the moment you were lost in the last day of the Crisis you transformed back into yourself."

"She saw me," he ran a shaking hand through his hair, shame and pain eating at him.

"She tried to wake you. She begged, cried for you to return to yourself. You did not, but the memories, the madness you brought with you to the Isles was finally set free, the wound reopened. The Isles were ripped from the seabed, tearing themselves apart in your grief. She was forced to flee. After that, she put the Relics aside, admitted defeat on her quest to find you, and returned to Riften and Orien, vowing never to let him know what had become of you, lest he attempt to return you himself."

Rommy swallowed, knowing the only thing keeping everything around him from warping at that moment was the presence of the other Prince. "I thought that happened my first year," was the first coherent thought he was able to articulate. Nydia had raised Orien? "Ripping the landmass up…that was my first year."

"It is the first year you recall," Jyggalag corrected him tonelessly. "It was four decades after I had left." Shifting slightly, he admitted, "Human emotions…they are difficult to quantify. The man that saved the Isles was capable of ruling them, but you were so lost in your grief that you were no longer that man. Felicia's death did not send you into madness, though it opened the door. You tumbled into the abyss only when you thought that you'd lost your child." Waving at Murril, still curled in his lap glaring daggers at him for upsetting her Daddy, he revealed, "So I found you another one."

Wrapping his arms around her, he asked woodenly, "Why her?"

"I spent some time vetting for the right one. All the denizens of the Isles, children included, were not the sense of being needed that you required. I told the Seducers what I was searching for—the Saints are a bit too obtuse to emotion to perceive the nuances," he added, as if Rommy needed told after two centuries of dealing with them. "Weeks after the Night of Green Fire, this child was brought to me. Dehydrated, starved, and lost in the same madness you were. You are the same, and that connection was enough to begin leading you out of yourself. I knew it would take centuries, and she would be long grown and perhaps unsuited to the task before it was finished."

Eyes snapping back to Jyggalag, Rommy snarled, "What did you do to her?"

"I connected her maturity to your healing," he revealed. "Some changes needed to be made to do so, of course, but there was already an archetype for it."

Processing that, Rommy demanded incredulously, "You turned her into a  _Saint?"_

"Not completely. She has their lifespan and some of their abilities, their imperviousness compared to mortals. She is still Altmer, simply…more."

Sensing trouble coming in a way honed by working with the mad, Rommy asked, "Which abilities?"

"That is yet to be determined."

"You realize if Telki finds out about this, ripping up the Isles is going to look tranquil in comparison?" he asked scathingly.

"She has nothing to complain of," Jyggalag insisted, waving his hand. "It was her involvement that has allowed the girl to start growing once more, and the girl's involvement that allowed you to become the man she fell for."

"Her name is Murril, not 'girl,'" Rommy said sharply. "She's more than just an experiment."

"She wasn't an experiment at all," the other Daedra replied, "She was a last, desperate measure."

"Can't get your revenge if I'm not around," he agreed sourly.

Jyggalag was silent for a long moment, looking out the window as a school of fish swam by. "I see now what I failed to see before my Curse," he said, surprising Rommy. "The duality. Order needs Disorder. My younger self would have razed all trace of madness from his path, but eventually, even Order becomes stagnant, starts to decay. I value you, Romulus, not just as a vessel for my Curse, but as you are. You are kinder, more understanding, of the mad and the broken than I ever was. It would distress me if you were unhappy with the life you stepped into. Distress is very distracting, but I find in your case that I cannot ignore it."

Silence stretched for a long moment. "Jyggalag…" Rommy finally ventured with a hint of suspicion, "are you trying to say you like me?" The ragged sigh of irritated acceptance quirked his lips into an amused grin.

"The other Princes will learn of my new Realm in time," he said, changing the subject, "The waters of Oblivion and the magic emanating across them from your Isles will only last so long once they start searching. Fate and the Webspinner have already begun. It was they who hatched the plot against me."

"Old Hermy has been trying to poke into your library," Rommy revealed, still cuddling a very confused Murril. He wasn't sure how much of the conversation she'd understood, but knowing that she could now grow and develop as an ordinary girl had gone a long way toward reassuring him. As an Altmer, her magic wouldn't develop for at least a decade. As a Saint, she was already able to call upon him and utilize chaos magic to some extent. What other abilities she might have, he wasn't sure.

He hoped she didn't have the same unique ability the Saints and Seducers used to pop through the warp and weft of Aubris to find the mad. It would be nearly impossible to keep track of her.

"I have already found the weakness of The Woodland Man," Jyggalad said, using one of Mora's titles. Rommy understood the need to avoid actually saying a Daedric Prince's name in Oblivion, but he still didn't entirely get how the nosy eldritch eyeball got the alias "The Woodland Man."

"Care to share?" Rommy asked, rewarded with an admonishing look. "What are you planning to do with them anyway?" he asked. "You can't kill them, and making them suffer would just ensure they find a new way to attack you."

"The power of a Daedric Prince cannot be destroyed," Jyggalag agreed, "just as a dragon soul cannot be destroyed. It can only be passed. These Princes are threats to me."

"If you're planning on absorbing them somehow, I think even your mind would crack a bit," Rommy remarked, attention half taken by Murril squirming around, rubbing her stomach and giving him a pleading look.

"I have no wish to take their Spheres," the Daedra assured him. "My only wish is to turn enemies to allies. To do this, my enemies must change."

"Have fun with that," Rommy said as Murril really started complaining. "I think this is my cue that she hates this place and wants food."

"We will talk more when time ripens," Jyggalag said easily, a relaxation about him that alerted Rommy that he may want to reexamine this conversation for hidden connotations a few dozen times. "Thank you for the cheese basket."

"Well, I know you can't make your own down here," he said, standing and putting Murril in his pocket.

"The formation of cheese requires Namira's influence," Jyggalag said with a bit of a sigh. Needless to say, he didn't want to let any other Daedra's influence in his Realm just yet. Rommy was a special case, since the Shivering Isles and the Sundered City technically shared the Realm, though he suspected Jyggalag would move it when he no longer needed the sheltering madness to cloak himself. "Fare thee well, Sheogorath."

"See you later, Jyggy," Rommy replied with a grin, showing himself out.

.

* * *

.

Murril was sleeping in her bed, ears twitching as she dreamed. Rommy shook his head, flipping the covers she'd kicked off back over her. In the other page bed, a line of potatoes in little nightcaps had been laid across the pillow and tucked in. They snored in unison. Closing the door to the page's room, he decided to spend the night in the Isles. Telki was spending time with Gideon, Merc, and Erandur, and he needed to think. Going to the kitchens, he began to bake, mind turning the conversation with Jyggalag over with the dough his hands worked, adding in his knowledge of what the other Prince had revealed with the flour.

Glass shattered as he dropped a mixing bowl, staring down at the mess, mouth dry. He had become the Daedra of Madness. One Daedra made two, by passing the power of the curse into another spirit. His spirit.

Daedric power was like a dragon's soul—it could be created but not destroyed. The dragons themselves were gone, however. The power remained, catalyzed and reformed into the power of the victor, but the personality, that was gone.

In one of his descendants lay the key to the true death of a Daedric Prince.

Various bits of baking ingredients began falling from the air as his mind whirled, bursting flour and sugar across the floor, splatting eggs and spices. Rommy sat, staring into space. If a Dragonborn could become an Aedra, then Daedra wasn't out of the question.

The personality would have to be compatible.

That stopped the tumbling of panic as he considered one of the twins absorbing the power of one of his darker brethren. Neither Blossom nor Orien was particularly studious, nor showed any sign that they would be. Blossom was a bit of a plotter, but she wasn't malicious about it, aborting her schemes if it looked as if someone would be hurt by them. Neither of them, if they remained true to the personalities they'd exhibited so far, could possibly mantle either the Prince of Fate or the Prince of Plots, who were clearly worrying Jyggalag the most.

Taking a deep breath and returning everything to the air, glad the floor was scoured as clean as the rest of the Palace just out of the habit of the stones, he stood. As long as the twins never matched any of the Daedra, they'd be unusable. He'd keep an eye on them, and on Jyggalag. Whatever the other Prince was plotting, he now knew any harm that came to Rommy's family would turn them against each other, and he needed the power of each Daedra twisted into the Curse of Madness to strike at the others. Without Rommy's cooperation, there was no revenge.

Rolling dough into small balls, he resolved not to tell anyone of his surmisations just yet, not until he knew for sure. Knowing Jyggalag, he could have phrased things so that Rommy would reach this conclusion. Until he could figure out why, and what reaction the older Daedra was hoping for, he wouldn't stress Telki during her pregnancy. After, he fully expected her to be angry with him, and he winced a bit. He didn't like hiding things from her, but he had felt her rage explode in her mind, had felt just how destructive her wrath was. Fettered down by keeping her baby from harm, it would eat at her.

Still, that was a huge violation of her trust, from her standpoint. Perhaps an opportunity to ease her into it would appear. He rather hoped so, though he might need to make one. With all of them together, perhaps she would be grounded enough that her rage wouldn't consume her.

The twins were far too young for any of this to matter yet, and their parents needed to focus on not becoming slaves to the Imperial Government, which he knew from watching Martin would already take all their wits and concentration. Completely aside from this was the issue of the Thalmor, the Young Ones, and uniting the disparate nations somehow, with half of Morrowind covered in ash and the other overran by vengeful Argonians, Elsweyr and Vallenwood part of the Dominion but not idealistically committed to it, and the Empire stewing in corruption born of stagnation and weak rule.

He sighed again. What a tangle.

Putting the dough aside to rise, he shifted to Nirn, letting his magic take him wherever best suited his mood. Unsurprisingly, he found himself standing on a barren rock out at sea, a molten caldera behind him and nothing out to the curve of the world around in any direction. Wind whipped at him, and he sat, watching the hurricane blowing overhead.

Yes, he'd tell them, and he'd learn more of Jyggalag's intentions. In time. For now, he closed his eyes, leaching the power from the eye of the storm before it could head for land. The calming of the clouds reacted to the calming of his mind, allowing him to gaze up at Aetherius, a place that could no longer accept him.

He wondered what Nydia was doing now.

Sending a silent apology to his long-dead sister, he frowned, feeling an internal tug, and turned around, facing across the ocean toward Tamriel. The moment of connection was ruined as a small form fell out of thin air to land on him, shrieking.

Rommy sat up, surprised. "Murril?" he asked incredulously, staring down at the small girl that cuddled to his chest, looking up at him proudly and pointing to the empty sky she had just appeared from.

"Well, crap."


End file.
